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THE CONWAYS 



EFFIE \V. M ERR I MAN 


AUTHOR OF PARUS/^ A QUEER FAMILY/’ THE LITTLE MILLERS,” ETC 




} 


2 ol> ^ 

BOSTON 

LEE AND SHEPARD, PUBLISHERS 

lO ]\IILK STREET 

1893 

\ W 'A\ - , 

- ^ 




THE CONWAYS. 


CHAPTER I. 

In the sitting-room of a ptetty home in a western 
village, Oakwood, sat a girl of sixteen, reading a 
letter. 

“They will be here at this time to-morrow, 
mother, ” she said, looking up as a sweet-faced lady 
entered the room ; “and Fm almost as sorry as 
glad.’' 

‘ ‘ Why so ? I should think you would be delighted 
to have Rob and Zana with you for a few weeks. 

“So I should if this place were not so dead. We 
have no amusements here, you know, and they 
have lived where there is always something going 
on. Sometimes I have felt as if I should fly when I 
have read their letters telling of their good times. I 
hate to live in a place like this, mother ! Pretty 
soon I’ll be old and can’t have a good time, and then 
what shall I have to look back to ? I feel just as if 
I were wasting valuable,time.” - 

“Poor little girl ! ” said the mother, stroking the- 
soft brown hair. “I think, at your age, I shotild 



6 


THE CONWAYS, 


have felt just as you do. I must talk to father 
and-’’ 

“Not send me away, mammy dear!'" was the 
quick reply. “ I couldn’t have a good time away 
from you. I’d rather stay here until I’m a dned-up 
old woman with all the fun squeezed out of me, than 
to go away from you.” 

“ She’s mother’s baby yet! ” said the mother softly, 
drawing the girl, who was nearly as tall as herself, 
to a seat on her knee. “You can’t think how 
happy you make me, Gracie dear,” she continued. 
“I have been selfish not to have thought more of 
your pleasure.” 

“ Don’t talk that way, little mother. There isn’t 
another mother in the world half so perfect as you 
are. ” 

“You bet there isn’t ! ” exclaimed a boyish voice, 
and a tall, merry-faced, curly-haired boy rushed into 
the room, and pulled his sister from her seat on the 
mother’s knee. 

“Get up, Grace,” he commanded. “Aren’t you 
ashamed to tire mother out in that wayI want to 
sit here myself ! ” 

He seated himself on his mother’s knee, and held 
his feet up that she might more fully realize his pres¬ 
ence, he told her ; but in less than a second he sprang 
up again. 

“Ouch ! ” he exclaimed, “’tisn’t fair to use pins, 
mother! ” 

“’Tisn'f fair for an overgrown boy of eighteen to 
bear his whole weight on his poor old mother’s knee, ” 
^^she retorted, laughing. 




THE CONWAYS, 


7 

“Oh, Ned!” exclaimed Grace, ‘‘they're coming 
to-morrow, ” 

“Who?” 

“Just as if you'd forgotten 1 Why, Zana and Rob, 
to be sure.” 

“Well, can’t you let them come ? ” asked Ned. 

“ I want them to come, of course; but what are 
we going to do with them ? ” 

“ I don't know. I'm sure 1 Couldn't we put them 
on ice ? ” 

“ Now, Ned, please be good 1 ” 

“Well, then, we might roll them up in waxed 
paper and lay them away where the rats couldn’t get 
them ? ” 

“Ned, you’re dreadfully provoking ! You don’t 
try to help me out, at all ; and they’re to be your 
guests as well as mine.” 

“You don’t explain yourself properly,” protested 
Ned. “How should I know what you want to do 
with them ? ” 

“ I want to enterljjiin them-” 

“Oh, is that all 1 Send them out to help me chop 
wood. ” 

“—Arid you know as well as I do that this'is the 
deadest place that ever lived I ” exclaimed Grace, 
now thoroughly exasperated. 

“ Oh, the deadest place that ever lived ! ” Ned fell 
to the floor, where he lay stretched at full length. 

“ Fan me, mother ; I’m faint ! ” 

He gasped for breath, and kept his eyes closed 
for the space of three seconds, then he was suddenly 
roused by a dash of cold water in his face. 



8 


THE CONWAYS. 


** Sure cure for fainting ! ’’ exclaimed Grace, disap¬ 
pearing quickly through the door, and rushing up¬ 
stairs two steps at a bound with Ned close behind 
her. She succeeded in reaching her own room and 
bolting the door before he could catch her, then, for 
a little while, quiet reigned in the home of the Con¬ 
ways. 

For some time after the children had left her, Mrs. 
Conway sat lost in thought, from which she was 
aroused by the coming of her husband. 

Grace is right," she said, looking up as he bent 
over her. ‘‘ Life here must be very dull to an active 
young girl." 

^‘Now what.?" asked the husband quizzically. 
‘‘Remember, you haven’t favored me with the first 
part of the thought." 

“ Grace made a complaint which set me to think¬ 
ing," she said, then repeated the conversation 
already recorded. 

“I have been so intent on bringing her up to be 
a companion for myself," she continued, “and so 
happy to have her always near me, that I never 
stopped to consider whether she were content or 
not." 

“She certainly does not appear unhappy,” replied 
Mr. Conway. “ No one would imagine it to have 
heard her just now." 

“ I like to have her romp," answered Mrs. Con¬ 
way, laughing. “I want her to enjoy all sorts of 
healthy fun ; it is the unhealthy fun I dread. When 
I think of the ways in which the modern society girl 
seeks amusement, the dances and card parties-" 


THE CONWAYS. 


9 


Grade is not old enough for such things any¬ 
how/’ interposed the father, quickly. 

“She is sixteen, and already longing for such 
amusements as other young people have. Tm afraid 
if I don’t provide something she will be tempted 
to look elsewhere for it; and Ned is in no less 
danger. ” 

“Well, what do you propose to do—invite them in 
and entertain them with cards and dancing ? ” 

“ I believe I would do so rather than have my 
children go away from home to learn such things,” 
answered the mother with a smile. “ I’m going to 
set my wits to work first, however, to see if I can¬ 
not find some more innocent amusement for them. 
Will you help ? ” 

“ If I can, but I fear that I shall be of little use. ” 

“You may be of great use from a financial stand¬ 
point.” 

Mr. Conway clutched his pocket-book, in mock 
dismay, and raised his eyebrows inquiringly. 

“ It would cost a great deal were we to introduce 
our daughter into fashionable society,” said Mrs. 
Conway. “ I’ll endeavor to make my experiment 
cost less than that would. ” 

“All right, then; I’ll stand by you; only you 
must not bankrupt me.” 

The conversation was interrupted by a violent 
knocking on the hall door, which sounded as if half 
a dozen pairs of fists were at work there. 

“ Hello, there !” shouted Ned, opening the door 
so suddenly that the two young people outside 
nearly fell at full length on the hall floor. 


10 


THE CONWAYS. 


“ What are you here for, at this time of day?"' he 
asked hospitably. 

“ Thought we'd surprise you ! " was the laughing 
reply. “We wrote to you to expect us to-morrow, 
just for the fun of the thing. Where is Grace.? ’’ 

“ I treed her just now ! ” 

“ You what! Oh, here she is.” 

“Mercy, Ned!” exclaimed Grace, “why didn’t 
you invite them in .? ” 

“ Trying to make up my mind whether we’d bet¬ 
ter let them in before to-morrow,” was Ned’s saucy 
reply, as he dexterously slipped his hand between 
Zana’s and Grace’s lips when they undertook to 
kiss each other, then unceremoniously helped Rob 
through the door by his coat collar. 

“ Ned is just as mean as ever, isn’t he.?” asked 
Zana. 

‘ ‘ Every bit 1 ” answered Grace, with a look which 
showed plainly that she considered her brother vefy 
nearly perfect. 

“Ned, dear!” expostulated Mrs. Conway, who 
had come into the hall just in time to see Ned drag¬ 
ging his guest over the threshold, “ you should not 
be so rough. What will Rob think of you.? ” 

“ I think he’s glad to see me, ” replied Rob, shak¬ 
ing hands with Mrs. Conway. “ Boys don’t have 
to kiss each other every time they meet, as girls 
do. They have other ways of showing their de¬ 
light.” 

“More emphatic, but quite as soulful,” added 
Ned, and the two boys laughed so heartily that Mrs. 
Conway was sure there must be a very good joke 


THE CONWAYS, 


II 


somewhere, and quite sorry that she was too old to 
appreciate it. 

“Well,'’ she said, “since you seem to understand 
Ned’s welcome, I don’t know as I should complain 
of it. Although I have made the subject ‘ boys’ a 
study for eighteen years, ” putting her hand on her 
son’s shoulder, “ I must confess they are something 
of a puzzle to me yet. ” 

“What a nice mother you have ! ” exclaimed Rob, 
a few minutes later, when the two boys were left 
to themselves. 

“ I wouldn’t trade her for all the other mothers in 
the world,” answered Ned. “She’s lots of fun, 
too.” 

“ Is she.? I thought she didn’t look awfully horri¬ 
fied at the way we came in. We are dying for fun, 
Ned, and we let ourselves loose the minute we 
stepped off the cars. ” 

“ Dying for fun ! ” exclaimed Ned. “ Why, I should 
think you’d be tired of it, if one might judge by your 
letters. ” 

“Oh, that wasn’t fun ! We went to theatres and 
young people’s parties, and dancing-school, and— 
and everything else that’s silly ; but we didn’t have 
one bit of real fun, such as we used to have when 
we all visited grandpa on the farm. Oh, Ned ! do 
you remember our barge } ” 

“And when we rode a race on the oxen !” ex¬ 
claimed Ned. “That was the worst ride I ever 
took.” 

“You landed in the pig-pen, if I remember cor¬ 
rectly,” said Rob, choking with laughter. 


12 


THE CONWAYS. 


^‘Oh, that pig! What a time we had trying to 
keep him in the pen ! 

“ How mad the girls got because we tumbled him 
in head first. Do you remember when we tied a 
string from his tail to his ears-’’ 

‘‘—And you held the girls while I dragged an ear 
of corn in front of him-” 

“—And he’d turn a somersault every time he put 
his head down to get it-” 

‘‘—And the girls I didn’t they struggle 1 They 
thought we were hurting the pig.” 

As the boys continued comparing notes of one 
summer, four years ago, when the cousins visited 
together at the home of Grandpa Conway, they 
laughed so heartily at every fresh recollection that 
Mrs. Conway, who was at work in an adjoining room, 
laughed softly to herself in sympathy. 

All young people fell in love with Mrs. Conway, 

‘ ‘ because, ” they said, ‘ ‘ she never forgot that she was 
young, once, and wanted to have a good time.” 

“Mother knows just how girls feel about things,” 
said Grace, as she helped Zana lay aside her wraps 
in her own room. Zana had been asking if Aunt 
Mary would think Rob and herself “perfectly 
awful. ” 

“ Ned and I act ten times worse every day,” an¬ 
swered Grace, “and mamma only laughs. She 
couldn’t scold, you see, for she plays too. She’s as 
good as a girl any day.” 

‘ ‘ Oh, dear! you ought to be perfectly happy, 
Grace. You can’t imagine what it is to have an 
aunt who goes into hysterics over everything, and 



THE CONWAYS. 


n 

a mother who scolds and complains all the time. ” 

“You poor dear! ” said Grace, “ it must be dread¬ 
ful. I do hope you’ll have a good time while you’re 
here; but everything is so dull! I’m afraid you’ll 
nearly die of homesickness. ” 

‘ ‘ I guess not, ” replied Zana. ‘ ‘ I’ve brought quan¬ 
tities of books, and then we have so much to tell each 
other that we’ll have to talk hours and hours ; besides, 
I want to be out of doors enough to get tanned, or the 
girls in our set won’t believe I’ve been rusticating at 
all. Several of them, whose fathers couldn’t afford 
to send them put of the city this summer, shut them¬ 
selves up in back rooms and pretended that they 
were away from home.” 

“ How could they do a thing like that ! ” exclaimed 
Grace. 

“They did. I wouldn’t, and I was awfully mad 
when mamma and auntie went to the sea-shore, and 
left me at home.” 

“I should think you would have been glad to 
have your mother go, even if you couldn’t,” said 
Grace. 

/‘There was no more reason why she should go 
than why I should,” was the reply. “She didn’t go 
into society any more during the winter, and was no 
more nearly worn out. I made such a fuss, how¬ 
ever, that papa promised to let me spend the fall 
months with you, then I was perfectly satisfied. ” 

“ Put in an appearance, girls ! ” shouted Ned, from 
the foot of the stairs; “that is, if you care to go 
with us.” 

“ Where are you going ? ” asked Grace. 


THE CONWAYS. 


U 


“To the Holbrook farm for plums, and we start in 
three minutes/' 

“So do we ! ” answered Grace. “ Hurry, Zana ! 
Put on the oldest dress you have, for plum stains 
are hard to remove." 

“My trunk has not arrived, and Tve only a tea- 
gown in my valise. ” 

“Nice one? " 

“A beauty. Silk.” 

“It won’t do. Here, put on this.” 

“Oh, Grace, it’s too short! I’d look like a fright. 
I’m going to wear what I have on.” 

“Come, girls ! ” called Ned from the street. 

Very soon the four young people were riding 
through the little village, and out into the beautiful 
country, which was just changing its dress of 
green for a brighter one of red and yellow and 
brown. 

‘ ‘ Did you have a pleasant time, children .? ” asked 
Mrs. Conway, a few hours later, when the young 
people flocked into the dining-room. 

“ Prime ! ” answered the boys. 

“ I’m afraid Zana didn’t,” said Grace. “She can’t 
stand romping as well as I can.” 

“ I’m tired to death ! ” wailed Zana, throwing her¬ 
self on the dining-room lounge; “and my pretty 
travelling dress is completely ruined.” 

“Why did you wear it ? ” asked Ned, bluntly. 

“ It was all I had here. Besides, how should I 
know what was to happen ? If I’d known that you 
boys were going to act as you did, I should have 
stayed at home.” 


THE CONWAYS. 


15 


‘^That’s what you’d better do next time, Zana, 
unless you can dress for the occasion,” replied Rob. 

“ What did the boys do, dear.?” asked Mrs. Con¬ 
way. 

‘‘Why, they pelted us with plums,” began Zana, 
laughing at the recollection in spite of herself, 
“ and they put me up on the branch of a tree, where 
I was so frightened I thought I’d drop, and— 
and-” 

“And they rolled her up tight in the lap-robe,” 
interrupted Grace, “and pinned it close, then stood 
her up and left her. She couldn’t move ! I never 
saw anything so funny in all my life ! ” 

Grace and the boys laughed heartily at the recol¬ 
lection, and Zana could not keep her face straight, 
though she tried to. 

“Why did you not go to her assistance, Grace?” 
asked Mrs. Conway. 

“I didn’t see what they were doing, just at first. 
I was up in the branches of a splendid plum tree, try¬ 
ing to shake down the plums-” 

“ Grace climbs just like a boy,” complained 
Zana. 

“But I hurried down as fast as I could,” continued 
Grace. 

“And when you were down what did you do.? 
Please explain ! ” said Rob. 

“ Yes,” chimed in Ned. “ What did you do, 
ma’am ? ” 

“ Well,” confessed Grace, “I didn’t do much but 
stand still and laugh. I couldn’t, Zana,” apologeti¬ 
cally, “ for the boys had you safe, and were ready 




THE CONWAYS. 


l6 

to give their whole attention to me. Besides, you 
did look so funny standing like—like-’’ 

“—A hitching-post,” supplied Rob. 

“ Zana can’t help herself one bit,” said Ned, half 
scornfully, “she hasn’t a cent’s worth of muscle. I 
tell you, Rob, a fellow has to work when he gets 
into a tussle with Grace. ” 

“I have never been very strong,” said Zana, 
plaintively. She thought it was a fine thing to be 
considered delicate. 

“Whydidn’t you run when you saw us coming? ” 
demanded Ned. “Instead, she gets all in a heap, 
just this way, mother, and goes ‘ Ow—wow—wow 
w-o-o-w ! P-l-e-a-s-e don’t touch me, boys ! ’ ” 

There was a general laugh over Ned’s funny 
mimicry; then Mrs. Conway told the young people 
to take their places at the table, for tea was ready. 

“Can’t I have mine here?” asked Zana. “I’m 
actually too tired to move.” 

“ Don't let her,” said Ned to Rob, before any one 
else could speak, and that young man acted promptly 
on the suggestion. 

“Arouse yourself, gentle maiden,” he said, lifting 
Zana to her feet and leading her to the table. “You 
can’t have folks trotting around to wait on you, here, 
as you do at home. ” 

“Very true!” exclaimed Ned. “Rob, you’re a 
boy of great common-sense. I’m another I Zana 
needs a course of training, and I’m perfectly willing 
to assist you. ” 

“Thank you,” answered Rob, gravely. “I shall 
not hesitate to call on you.” 



THE CONWAYS, 


17 

*‘Boys, you are too bad!” exclaimed Grace. 

Zana is really tired.” 

“ If she had got tired working we wouldn’t have 
touched her,” said Ned; “but she shouldn’t be so 
silly as to tire herself out at play. ” 

“ I’d like to know how I could help it I ” retorted 
Zana. 

“You shouldn’t get tired so easy,” replied Ned, 
who saw no reason why all girls should not be as 
physically strong as his sister. 

“ Have you read the McKinley‘Bill, Ned,” asked 
Mr. Conway, in order to change the conversation, 
which was becoming too personal to please him.” 

“ Yes, sir,” replied Ned, enthusiastically. “Fine, 
isn’t it } ” 

“Fine 1 ” echoed Grace, somewhat scornfully, “I 
don’t see anything fine about it.” 

“Father, I believe Grace is getting to be a Demo¬ 
crat,” said Ned. “You ought to put a stop to it.” 

“I’m not a Democrat,” protested Grace. “ Fm a 
Third Party Prohibitionist, and you know it.” 

“It’s the same thing,” said Ned, “ or nearly so. 
Father ought to attend to you.” 

“ Grace has as much right to her opinions as you 
have to yours,” said Mr. Conway. “ I have no 
wish to prevent her from standing by the principles 
which seem nearest right to her.” 

“How are you going to vote.?” asked Grace 
turning to Rob. 

“ I don’t know,” answered Rob, hesitatingly. “I 
haven’t thought much about it yet. There’s time 
enough. ” 


2 


i 8 


THE CONWAYS, 


“ A boy of eighteen not thought anything about 
politics ! ” exclaimed Grace. “ Why, I had settled 
convictions when I was thirteen ! ” 

“ And you’ve changed them every year since \” 
retorted her brother. 

“ I changed because I had good reasons for doing 
so, didn’t I, mamma } ” 

“ Mere whim,” persisted Ned. 

“ I don’t see how you find time to study such 
things,” said Zana. “ I never do, and shouldn’t 
like it if I did. Seems to me there are men enough 
to attend to politics without our troubling ourselves 
about them.” 

‘‘Why, Zana, it’s fun!” exclaimed Grace, then 
turned her attention to the political discussion going 
on between her father and brother. 

When the young people had gone to their rooms 
for the night, Mr. Conway said gravely : 

“ Mary, do you think Zana is the right sort of 
companion for our little girl ? ” 

“ Why notasked Mrs. Conway. 

“She seems to me to be very frivolous. I can’t 
see what brother William is thinking of.” 

“Business, I suppose,” replied Mrs. Conway; 
“ and his wife is evidently thinking of society. I 
imagine they do not have much time left for their 
children. The idea of a girl of sixteen going into 
society like a grown woman ! Do you know, my 
heart aches for that child 1 ” 

“But her influence over Grace ; have you thought 
of that ? ” 

“We must not borrow trouble. Grace will have 




THE CONIVAYS, 


19 


to meet such girls after awhile, and I’d rather she 
began seeing them at home. She may be carried 
away just at first, but I don’t believe our work for 
the last sixteen years is to be entirely in vain.” 


20 


THE CONWAYS. 


CHAPTER 11. 

“To-morrow is Ned’s birthday,” said Grace on 
the first morning after the arrival of her cousins. 
“ Don’t say anything about it before him, for I think 
he has forgotten all about it. We’re going to sur¬ 
prise him, you know.” 

“We didn’t know,” replied Rob; “in fact, we 
don’t know yet.” 

“We’re going to have a party, and—hush! there 
he comes. Yes, Zana,” holding a card-case before 
Zana’s eyes, “I think that is very well done, don’t 
you.?” 

“Oh, say it is beautiful 1 ” exclaimed Ned, dramati¬ 
cally, “call it perfectly wonderful, immense, gor¬ 
geous, anything to have it over with. There is one 
thing you have yet to learn, my child,” he added, 
patting Zana’s cheek in a patronizing way, as he 
passed her to throw himself at full-length on the 
lounge, “and that is this : You must praise every¬ 
thing Grace does. You’ll have to do it sooner or 
later, and the quicker you do it the quicker you’ll get 
through with a disagreeable job, and—Oh, Grace, 
I beg! ” 

“ You’ll have to beg very humbly this time, young 
man,” answered Grace, who had seated herself on 
her brother’s chest and was holding firmly to both 


THE CONWAYS. 


21 


of his ears. “It isn’t often that I get a chance like 
this, my dear, and I mean to improve it. Are you 
obliged to praise everything I do ? ” giving his ears 
a little jerk. 

“Ouch ! No ! Good gracious, no ! ” 

“You never praise anything unless you think it 
deserves praise ? ” 

“Never, so help me George Washington ! ” 

“But everything I do deserves praise.?” 

“ Everything ! Don’t pull so ! ” 

“ Is it a disagreeable job to praise me ? ” 

“It’s stacks of fun ! ” with a groan. 

“ Don’t you dare to groan ! Now say, ‘ To praise 
you is one of the pleasantest duties of my life.’” 

“To praise me—Oh no. I’ll say it right! To 
praise you is one of the pleasantest duties of my 
life.” 

“All right, you may get up, now ; but first promise 
not to touch me tor half an hour. ” 

Ned promised, and Grace allowed him to get up. 

“ You have a good chance, now ; pay her back,” 
suggested Rob. 

“No, I won’t break my promise even in play,” 
answered Ned. “She got the advantage this time, 
and it’s all right. Next time I’ll be looking out.” 

“Why didn’t you shake her off.? ” inquired Rob. 

‘‘ Shake her off 1 ” exclaimed Ned. ‘‘ You’ve never 
had a trial of strength with Grace, or you’d know it 
isn’t so easy. Why, she’s nearly as strong as I am. 
Besides, my hands were under my back.” 

‘ ‘ I think it is awful for a girl to be so strong, ” 
said Zana, languidly. 


22 


THE CONWAYS. 


**I think it is fine!” answered Grace. “I don't 
see why I shouldn’t be strong, as well as Ned. I 
don’t like girls who are always complaining. ” 

“Nor I,” replied Rob ; “but most of them seem to 
ache somewhere all the time, and are ready to 
break into pieces if they are touched.” 

“ Girls were not meant to be as strong as boys,” 
said Zana, “and no one likes a mannish girl. Many 
and many a time I’ve heard gentlemen, yes and ladies 
too, laugh about mannish girls. It’s well enough to 
be strong out here in the country where no one 
knows anything about it, and a strong girl can have 
lots more fun ; but in society—goodness, Grace 1 I 
should be mortified to death to have my friends 
know how strong you are 1 Don’t you remember 
Miss Swaim, Rob ? ” 

“Remember her!” Rob and Zana laughed 
heartily. “Once seen, never forgotten!” he con¬ 
tinued. “She believed in Woman Suffrage, and 
when she was on the street she actually looked 
more like a man than a woman. Once she horse¬ 
whipped a man, and—Oh dear ! I can’t begin to 
tell all the awful things she has done.” 

“Grace,” called Mrs. Conway from the kitchen, 
“ there is work to be done this morning ; had you 
forgotten ? ” 

“Very nearly,” replied Grace, running to the 
kitchen, glad to be where she could think it all over, 
alone. 

Grace had always been very proud of her good 
health, and often boasted that she had never been 
sick in bed a day in her life ; now she almost wished 


THE CONWAYS. 


23 


that her cheeks were a little paler, and that she 
hadn't used quite so much strength in holding her 
brother on the lounge. She certainly did not want 
to be laughed at by ladies and gentlemen. 

‘‘Mother has always liked to have me well and 
strong,’’ she said afterwards, when talking it over 
again with Zana. 

‘‘Of course, ” was the reply. “ Mothers are always 
afraid their children are going to die, you know ; 
and they’d rather have them as strong and awkward 
as elephants than to lose them. That is, some 
mothers would. I’m not so sure about my mother, 
but I know yours would feel that way about it. 
You’ve got an awfully nice mother, Grace, but she 
isn’t the least bit stylish. You couldn’t depend on 
her judgment at all if you wanted to go into society, 
because she is really behind the times. 

“I don’t care if she is,” answered Grace, hotly, 
“I wouldn’t change her for all the other mothers in 
the world.” 

“Neither would I if I had her,” confessed Zana, 
so earnestly that peace was established between the 
cousins at once. 

“Now we are alone,” said Grace, “I must tell 
you what we are going to do to-morrow. I do hope 
Ned will be surprised for once ; he is the worst boy 
I ever saw about finding out things we try to keep 
secret. I’his time he seems to have forgotten what 
time of the month it is. ” 

“It is so nice to remember the birthdays,” said 
Zana. “We never do at our house. It would be 
so expensive.” 


24 


THE CONWAYS. 


Can’t you have inexpensive entertainments ?'' 

“Oh, no ! Why, folks would say that we were 
on the road to the poorhouse. We have to entertain 
all our set, when we entertain at all, and so we only 
give a ball once a year, and have one or two 
receptions, and a dinner or two—just as little as 
we can get along with. When we do entertain, we 
invite everybody who has invited us, and get through 
with our society obligations in a wholesale man¬ 
ner.” 

“Well,” said Grace, “I shouldn’t like that at all. 
We invite people because we like to have them 
come, not because they have invited us ; and we 
have something going on in honor of every birthday 
and all the other holidays. ” 

“ How can your father afford so many entertain¬ 
ments ? ” 

“They don’t cost much.” 

“Oh, thats it ! ” Zana’s lip curled quite disdain¬ 
fully. 

“We have real good times,” faltered Grace. 

“Oh, I suppose so! We are not expected to 
ppear in full dress, then } ” 

“ I shall wear my garnet cashmere.” 

“And I.?” 

“The dress you have on will be plenty good 
enough.” 

“I shouldn’t care to appear in any such style 1 I 
shall wear my blue silk, I think.” 

An hour later, Grace found her way to her mother’s 
bedroom. 

“Do you know, mother,” she said, “I almost 


THE CONWAYS, 


25 

wish we were not going to have the party to-morrow 
night. ” 

“What, not notice Ned's birthday! Why, 
Grace ? ” 

“ I’m sure Rob and Zana will think it very stupid, 
and—and you know, mother, they do things very 
differently.” 

“Then they’ll enjoy our way of doing things all 
the more. Don’t worry, pet ; I’m sure we shall all 
have a very nice time.” 

“I hope so.” Grace smiled faintly. “Mother, 
I suppose you'll think I’m silly, but sometimes I 
wish I could have good times in the way Zana does. 
I’ve heard other girls tell about them, and—well, 
ours seem so tame in comparison 1 ” 

Mrs. Conway was silent, and there was a thought¬ 
ful look in her dark eyes, as she gently stroked her 
daughter’s hair. 

“Mamma dear, forgive me!” Grace threw her 
arms around her mother’s neck and kissed her. 
“I’m just as ungrateful and horrid as any one can 
be. You do everything forme, and still I complain, 
and I’m not worth a second thought. Please forget 
it, mother, and I’ll promise to be more contented 
and unselfish.” 

‘ ‘ There is nothing to forgive, sweetheart. Mother 
understands you perfectly. ” 

Long after Grace had left the room, the mother 
sat thinking, trying to decide what was best for her 
to do. 

The next day passed slowly to Grace, ^nd Zana 
and Rob, although there was plenty of work for 


26 


THE COHWAYS, 


them to do. Mr. Conway had sent Ned to the city 
to get a book of reference which he suddenly and 
opportunely found himself in need of, and which 
he knew could not be found in the town library. 

“Ned cannot get back until the guests have ar¬ 
rived,” said Grace, gleefully. “Papa, you always 
think of the very best way of doing things. I 
couldn’t imagine how we were going to get rid of 
him.” 

“ He’ll be at home at half-past eight, won’t he ? ” 
asked Zana. 

“Yes, but I’ve invited the guests to be here at 
eight. ” 

“At eight! why, you must keep children’s hours ! ” 
Again there was the half-scornful tone in Zana’s voice 
which made Grace so uncomfortable. 

At half-past eight o’clock, that evening, Ned was 
heard whistling merrily as he came up the walk, 
and the gay party of young folks gathered in the 
large hall, and were very quiet. He threw the door 
open wide, and immediately a dozen girlish hands 
seized and held him fast, while the rest of the 
feminine portion of the party proceeded to give him 
his birthday whipping. 

“Eighteen blows,” called Grace, setting the rest 
a fine example, “ and a fierce one to grow on, and 
a fiercer yet to be a good boy on ! ” 

“Hold on, there!” shouted Ned, struggling to 
free himself; “you ought to be ashamed! Why 
didn’t you give a fellow warning ? It isn’t fair to 
strike yke snakes in the grass.” 


THE CONWAYS. 


27 

“ He calls us snakes, girls ! ” said Grace. Now 
we’ll not show him the least mercy.” 

“ Boys,” panted Ned, “ can’t you help a fel¬ 
low } ” 

“ We’re pledged not to interfere,” said one. 

“ It’s your birthday, you know,” added another. 

‘‘You have my sympathy, old fellow,” said Rob, 
laughing ; “ but I don’t dare to interfere.” 

Ned was finally released, when he hurried to his 
room to make himself presentable. 

“What if he should be angry and refuse to come 
down again ! ” said Zana. 

“Angry ! ” Grace laughed. “Fancy Ned getting 
angry over a joke ! I shouldn’t have a very good 
opinion of him if he did.” 

“ Don’t you ever get angry over a joke } ” asked 
Rob. 

“No, sir, I don’t. Father and mother wouldn’t 
allow me to be so silly if I wanted to be. They say 
we might as well learn self-control in that way as 
any other.” 

At that moment Ned came into the room, with a 
broad smile on his pleasant face, although he was 
doing his best to look stern. 

“Gentlemen,” he said, bowing low to the boys, 
“ I am delighted to see you here to-night. It quite 
reconciles me to my—my ” 

“—aged state,” suggested Zana. Ned bowed 
assent. 

“Like old cheese? ” asked Grace, but he paid no 
attention, 

“I really wish,” he continued, “that I could say 



28 


THE CONIVAVS. 


the same respecting those—those females ! casting 
a scornful look towards the girls. 

“Ned, I’m ashamed of you!” exclaimed Grace, 
indignantly. 

“I knew I could make Grace flash Are I ” said Ned, 
laughing gleefully. “Nothing makes her so angry 
as to have anyone call a woman a female. ” 

“ Now we will choose partners for supper,” an¬ 
nounced Grace, taking two baskets from the mantel. 

“Choose partners for supper!” repeated Rob. 
“Why, Grace, of what are you thinking.? It isn’t 
half-past nine o’clock yet.” 

“Supper will be ready by the time we have found 
our partners,” replied Grace. “Here, Ned,” hand¬ 
ing one of the baskets to her brother, “please pass 
this to all the girls, and have each select one leaf 
from it. I’ll attend to the boys.” 

“Is it safe for me to go near the girls .?” 

“Quite safe. I’ll answer for them.” 

The baskets contained leaves cut from green 
paper-cambric. Natural leaves had been used for 
patterns, and there were two of each kind, one in 
the basket which was passed to the girls, one in that 
passed to the boys. As soon as a boy had selected 
a leaf, he started in search of the girl who had 
drawn the mate to it, for he was to be her escort to 
supper. 

Such a merry time as they had ! So many of the 
leaves were exactly alike in shape, and were distin¬ 
guished apart only by the veining which was done 
in a different shade of thread, and so many leaves 
were exactly alike as to veining, but slightly differ- 


THE CONWAYS. 


29 


ent in shape, that the young people became quite 
confused before they found the one who was to be 
their companion at supper, and the last boy to find 
the lady whom he was to escort, had only just suc¬ 
ceeded when the tea-bell called them into the dining¬ 
room. 

Both dining-room and table were prettily deco¬ 
rated with green leaves and a few autumn flowers. 
At each plate was a leaf cut from a sheet of plain 
white cardboard, to which a tiny lead pencil was 
tied by a narrow ribbon. ]\Ir. and Mrs. Conway 
acted as waiters. They wore tall white paper caps, 
decorated with green leaves, and they performed 
their duties so faithfully, that Ned promised them 
each a bright red testimonial just as soon as he 
could afford to buy cardboard of which to make them. 

“What are these forasked one of the guests, 
holding up his cardboard leaf. 

“ You must each write a rhyme on your leaf, con¬ 
taining its name, ’’ explained Grace. “The one who 
writes the best rhyme will get a prize, and so will 
he who writes the poorest. 

“She, you mean,” corrected Ned. 

“No, HE !” with emphasis. “She will get the 
head prize.” 

‘ ‘ I can’t write a rhyme-” began Zana. 

‘ ‘ No such word as ‘ can’t ’ allowed here, ” inter¬ 
rupted Grace. “ Everyone must try. The names 
of the writers will not be read, except of the two 
who receive the most votes for the prizes.” 

“How do we know what leaf to write about?” 
asked Rob. “I am no botanist” 



3 ° 


THE CONWAYS. 


“You have to guess; there’s where the fun comes 
in.” 

“The young people were very busy with their 
pencils for a few minutes, then Mrs. Conway 
gathered up the leaves, and began reading the verses 
aloud. 


“ Oh, maple leaf, it seems to me 
A prettier sight I ne’er did see 
Than you, when hanging on yon tree, 

Wherein the maple sugar be.” 

“Ned wrote that, I know ! ” exclaimed Zana. “It 
sounds just like him.” 

“But the touching ode to the maple leaf is writ¬ 
ten on an oak leaf,” said Mrs. Conway, “So this 
poem cannot take first prize. ” And one of the guests 
groaned so dismally that there was no further doubt 
about the author. 

“ Here in my hand, what do I see } 

An ivy leaf, it seems to me ; 

But if you don’t agree with me 
Then you may name the tree.” 

The verse was no sooner read than Rob, who 
prided himself on his ability as a rhymester, instantly 
added: “Oh, Zana, Zana, can’t you see, that that 
leaf came from a hickory tree ? ” and Zana promptly 
responded : 

“Oh, Rob, how very mean you be, to expose the 
ignorance of me.” 

“She’s even with you, Rob!” exclaimed Grace. 
“Girls, clap your hands for Zana I ” 


THE CONWAYS. 


31 


The girls obeyed most willingly, and the boys 
hissed, while Mr. and Mrs. Conway looked on, and 
laughed. 

There was quite an exciting time when votes were 
taken on the verses. Ned received the foot prize—a 
Japanese doll, which he tended carefully during the 
rest of the evening. His rhyme was written on a 
poplar leaf, and read as follows : 

“ This leaf is known by the name of poplar 
But what else to say I don’t know, 

No more than our old gobbler.” 

He was forced to endure a great deal of ridicule on 
account of that ' ‘ poetry ;even Rob, who promised 
to stand by him, joining in the general laugh. 
When the votes had been taken, and Ned’s name 
announced as the one signed to that wretched at¬ 
tempt, Grace quietly left her seat, dampened a nap¬ 
kin with cologne, and pinned it around his head. 

“Thanks, awfully ! ” he said, with great compo¬ 
sure ; “ that relieves me wonderfully.” 

The verse which was voted best, read as follows : 

• 

“ When thou the fairest leaf wouldst find, 

Go out into the clearing, 

And when a vivid, flame-like branch 
Thou seemest to be nearing, 

Make haste ! a tiny maple tree 

Touched by Jack Frost awaiteth thee.” 

“I know who wrote that,” said Grace, her voice 
as full of pride as if she had been the author herself, 
looking lovingly towards her best girl friend. 


32 


THE CONWAYS. 


Yes, Helen Dayne was the author, and she 
blushed prettily as she arose to receive the prize—a 
beautiful rosebush in full bloom. 

“ Doesn’t her mother do your mother’s washing ? ” 
whispered Zana. 

“She does,” answered Grace, in a way that con¬ 
vinced Zana that she would be wise not to pursue 
that subject just at present, but she resolved to give 
Grace a little good advice as soon as a suitable 
opportunity presented itself. 

Wheij the rhymes had all been read, nuts, candy 
and fruit were set before the young people, and then 
Mr. Conway appeared with a basket full of pack¬ 
ages. 

“Your majesty,” he said, bowing low before Ned, 
as he placed the basket beside his plate, “'your 
most humble and obedient servant has the honor of 
presenting the birthday gifts which your kind friends 
have provided. ” 

“ My most humble and obedient servant deserves 
a leather medal as big as the side of a barn,” said 
Ned, flushing with pleasure. ‘ ‘ Where shall I begin ? ” 
he asked, taking up the first package, untying the 
string, and removing the outer wrapping. 

“ You must untie every knot,” said Zana. 

Ned untied several knots, and removed several 
layers of paper, until the package had become much 
smaller, but was still nicely done up in paper, and 
tied securely. 

“See here!” he finally exclaimed; “how much 
longer is this going to last 1 I refuse to untie 
another knot,” 


THE CONWAYS. 


33 


'‘Cut it, then,” said Grace. “You’ve done very 
well! ” 

Ned removed several more coverings, and was 
finally rewarded for his perseverance with a very 
nice silk handkerchief, bearing a tag, on which was 
written : “ With love, from sister Grace.” 

Next came a five-dollar gold piece from father, con¬ 
cealed in a hollow biscuit, and a pair of slippers from 
mother, in each of which was concealed a nice linen 
handkerchief. There were, besides, gloves, books, 
neckties, writing materials, and all sorts of things 
dear to the heart of a boy. Nearly all his friends 
had remembered him in some way, and everyone 
realized more than ever before how great a fav¬ 
orite the fun-loving boy was among the young 
people. 

When the last parcel was opened, Ned was told 
that he must make a speech. 

“Oh, I beg!” he exclaimed, looking really dis¬ 
tressed. “Take your gifts back again ! Much as I 
like them, and want to keep them, I can’t consent 
to pay so high a price as that would be.” 

“They are given ; we can’t take them back,” re¬ 
plied one of the boys, decidedly, and the rest of the 
young people applauded. 

“Speech 1 Speech 1 Speech ! ” they called. 

“Seems to me you are asking a little too much of 
Ned,” said Helen. 

Ned was on his feet in an instant. He did not 
want anyone, especially a girl, to intercede in his 
behalf. He had always declared that he was quite 
capable of fighting his own battles, and often said 
3 


34 


THE CONWAYS. 


that if he could not succeed alone, he would prefer 
being beaten. 

“What shall I speechify about.?’’ he asked. 
“Give me a subject. I can talk on one subject as 
well as another.” 

‘ ‘ Birthdays. ” 

“Girls.” 

“What you like to do best.” 

“Surprise parties.” 

“ Your grandmother.” 

“Your sweetheart.” 

“Hold on!” cried Ned, ringing the tea-bell to 
attract attention; “you have given me as many 
subjects as I can do justice to in one evening.” 

“ Great Scott 1 ” murmured Rob ; “is he going to 
talk on all of them ? ” 

“ He is 1 ” calmly responded Ned, then bowing 
low to his parents and the guests, he began: 

“ Ladies and gentlemen, and most honored and 
illustrious waiters ! We have met here to-night to 
celebrate one of the greatest events which our country 
has known since the birth of George Washington, 
namely : the birth of Edwin W. Conway, Esquire, 
M.D., A.B., Ph.D., etc., etc.” 

“ Hear ! Hear 1 ” cried a voice at the other end of 
the table. 

“No interrupting the speaker ! ” said Rob, pound¬ 
ing on' the table with his nut-cracker. 

“The noble personage in question,” continued 
Ned, “came into this world a boy, for which he has 
ever been very grateful. Had he belonged to the spe¬ 
cies called girl, he would immediately have held his 


THE CONWAYS. 


35 


breath until he became a pale-blue corpse. (Hisses 
from the girls.) As he has tripped lightly through 
his eighteen years of life, making the world brighter 
and more beautiful every day he lives in it, (Deep 
groans from the girls. Cries of ‘ that’s so ’ from the 
boys), he has shown a deep and abiding love for so 
many worthy occupations, all of which would be 
honored and adorned by his presence in their ranks, 
that it is difficult to say which one will proudly claim 

him in the future, and-” 

“Settle him in the high position of janitor,” in¬ 
terrupted Grace. 

“Silence in the court-room!” commanded Rob. 
“Orator, proceed.” 

“In his lofty ambition,” continued Ned, after con¬ 
sulting his memorandum to see what came next on 
the list of subjects given him, “he has no time for 

surprise parties-” 

“ If he has for slang,” said Grace, softly. 

“—for he is devoted to his grandmother; as for 
his mother, she is his only sweetheart, always has 
been, and always will be. ” 

“I think I shall hold you to that declaration, my 
son,” said Mrs. Conway, as Ned sat down amid en¬ 
thusiastic applause. 

The young folks then adjourned to the sitting- 
room where a blackboard had been hung against the 
wall. Grace asked the guests to seat themselves in 
couples as they were divided in the dining-room, 
then she handed a little palette cut from cardboard to 
each couple. Ned w;as then requested to take his 
place at the blackboard. Grace held a long strip 



36 


THE CONWAYS. 


of paper in her hand on which was written the names 
of as many animals and insects as there were per¬ 
sons present. She allowed Ned to read the first one, 
taking care that no one else saw the word, and he 
then proceeded to make as good a picture of the 
animal named as he could, inside of five minutes. 
The rest of the guests wrote on their palettes the 
name of the animal they supposed he was trying to 
draw. He was endeavoring to make a picture of 
a monkey, but as he was about as much of an artist 
as poet, all sorts of guesses, including “ horse” and 
“rat” were written on the palettes. Every guest 
was obliged to draw one picture, and then Grace read 
from her list the names of the animal as given to each 
“ artist,” and each one drew a line through the wrong 
guess on his palette. Prizes were provided for the 
couple making the most correct guesses, also to the 
couple making the fewest. 

When the prizes were awarded the guests were as¬ 
tonished to learn that it was nearly midnight, and at 
once began to make preparations to go home, after 
wishing that Ned would have a birthday twice a 
year, and a party on every birthday ! 

That night, when Grace and Zana were undressing, 
Grace was surprised and delighted to hear her cousin 
say : 

“Do you know, Grace, I never had so much fun 
in one evening in all my life. And how nicely 
everything passed off! ” 

“Tm so glad, Zana,” answered Grace. “I feared 
you would find it very tiresome, after your grand 
parties at home.” 


THE CONWAYS. 


37 


Our parties are grander, and they cost ten times 
as much, but are not half the fun. Mamm'a and I 
get so tired and worried that we couldn’t have a good 
time,’ even if we felt sure that none of our guests 
were laughing at us about something. I wish we 
could have parties like yours, but of course it would 
never do at all.” 

“Why not ^ ” 

“Pecause nobody else does.” 

“That seems like a funny reason.” 

“You would understand it if you understood 
society ways.” 


38 


THE CONWAYS, 


CHAPTER III. 

“ What a weather-beaten parasol ! ” exclaimed 
Zana, the next morning, as the girls were starting 
for a walk. “ Don't carry that old thing, Grace ; 
haven't you a better one } " 

“ I am sorry to say I haven't," replied Grace, look¬ 
ing annoyed ; then, happening to notice her mother's 
eyes fixed on her face, the annoyance passed off, and 
she added with a laugh. “ It isn't a beauty, but, you 
see, I made up my mind early in the spring not to 
buy a new one, and I'm determined to stick to my 
. resolution." 

‘‘I beg your pardon,” said Zana. “I was very 
rude. I wouldn't have spoken if I’d dreamed-" 

“ That I was so poverty-stricken," supplied Grace, 
with a good-natured laugh. ‘ ‘ There's no harm done. 
I'm sure. Good-bye, mamma ; if we fail to return in 
due time, you may know we have decided to become 
tramps." 

“Good-bye, girls; have as good a time as you 
can." 

When the girls had left the house, Zana began 
abruptly : 

“Grace, I thought you had a monthly allowance 
to spend just as you pleased." 

“To spend as I think best,” corrected Grace. “I 
^ wish I could have money to spend as I please." 



THE CONWAYS. 


39 


‘‘I don’t understand you.” 

“ Why, papa gives Ned and me just what bethinks 
he can afford to spend on us, and he expects us to 
make it cover all our expenses except our board.” 

“ If it didn't, wouldn’t he give you more ? ” 

“ I shouldn’t like to ask him to, when I know he 
has already given me as much as he can afford. It 
would be unfair to ask him to do more than that. 
Sometimes I borrow of him, when I need a great 
many things all at once; but he doesn’t really like 
to have me do that. He says I should know before¬ 
hand that extra shopping is to be done, and provide 
for it.” 

“ He certainly ought to give you enough to enable 
you to dress decently. You can get a very good 
parasol for three dollars.” 

“He does give me enough,” answered Grace, 
quickly; “but sometimes I prefer to spend it for 
something besides clothes. This spring I had to 
make a choice between a parasol and something else, 
and concluded to make my old parasol do. ” 

“What could be a nicer way to spend money than 
for pretty clothes ? I think it is every girl’s duty to 
dress as nicely as she can,” said Zana, with great 
decision. 

Grace changed the subject. She did not care to 
tell that the money she might have spent for a new 
parasol had paid for drawing-lessons for her dearest 
friend, Helen Dayne. Helen did not know it her¬ 
self, and Grace was in such constant fear that she 
would find it out that she guarded her secret with the 
greatest care. 


40 


THE CONWAYS, 


When the new teacher announced his intention of 
starting a private class in drawing, the young people 
of most of the well-to-do families of Oakwood has¬ 
tened to join it. The price was considered very low 
—only three dollars for twelve lessons—but Helen 
knew that it was more than her mother could afford 
to pay, and so she did not mention it to her. How 
great was her longing to join the class, no one knew, 
but someone guessed. 

“ It is a perfect shame, mother ! ” Grace had said, 
when talking it over with her mother. “ There isn’t 
a pupil in our school who has as much talent for 
drawing as Helen.” And then she mentioned her 
plan for helping her friend. 

“ How can we manage it, mother, that Helen will 
not know who pays for her lessons } She is so proud 
that she would never forgive me if she found out.” 

One day Helen received an envelope through the 
post-office, containing three dollars, with a type¬ 
written letter informing her that the money was to 
be spent in drawing-lessons. It was mailed in a 
neighboring city, and though Helen and her mother 
made many guesses, they had never succeeded in 
learning the name of their unknown friend. 

“ Let us go around by Helen’s house and get her 
to go with us, ” suggested Grace. 

“What for.? Can’t you enjoy yourself unless she 
is along.? ” answered Zana. “ I do believe you like 
Helen better than you do me.” 

“ I like you differently. You are my cousin, and 
one always has a different feeling towards one’s own 
folks ; but Helen is my best girl friend. We’ve been 


THE CONWAYS. 


41 


chums always. We were chums before her father 
died. They were once the richest family in town, 
but her father failed in business .and died a few days 
afterward. 

“ Seems to me Mrs. Dayne might have found 
something better to do than to take in washing. 
Has she no relatives } ” 

“Yes, but she is too independent to depend on rel¬ 
atives. They owned two houses. The large brick 
house opposite ours was theirs, then, and also the one 
they live in now. Mrs. Dayne sold the large house to 
pay debts, and moved into the smaller one. She 
did try several ways of earning a living, but she had 
never learned how to work, and in a little town there 
isn't much for a woman like her to do.'’ 

‘ ‘ Why didn’t she go elsewhere ? ” 

“She had a home here, which she could not sell 
readily ; besides, she is not fitted to compete with 
city workwomen. There really seemed nothing 
better for her to do than what she is doing. Then, 
you know, our schools are most excellent, and she 
wishes to educate Helen as well as she can.” 

“ It is too bad ! I think Helen would be quite a 
nice girl if-” 

“ Helen is a very nice girl without ifs,” interrupted 
Grace, in a tone of voice that told Zana the task she 
had set herself would not be an easy one ; but the 
thought that she was doing only what was for her 
cousin’s good, helped her to go on. Zana was sincere 
in the belief that Grace ought not to be on intimate 
terms with one who would be considered her inferior 
socially. She had been taught from babyhood that 



42 


TtJE CONWAYS. 


only the fortunate people who were very rich, and 
could boast a long line of grandfathers, could afford 
to do as they pleased in such matters. 

“Of course Helen is nice,'’ she said ; “but there 
is no reason why you should have just the same feel¬ 
ing for her now.” 

“There is no reason why I shouldn’t, as I can see,” 
replied Grace, who saw, at once, the drift of Zana’s 
talk. “Helen didn’t change when her mother took 
in washing ; in fact, I think their trouble has made 
her more lovable.” 

“ But, Grace, that isn’t the only thing to be taken 
into consideration. I suppose there are street boys 
who are nicer than the boys in our set, in some 
respects, and perhaps, if I knew them well, I might 
like them better than many boys I know, but that 
wouldn’t give me an excuse for associating with 
•them.” 

“It would me,” replied Grace, laughing. “ If I 
were obliged to associate. with boys, I’d choose the 
nicest ones I could find, whether they were on 
the street or in the President’s drawing-room, and I 
wouldn’t judge them by their clothes.” 

“You’ll know more than you do now, about some 
things, Grace, if you ever go into society, but you’ll 
have to change many of your ideas before you will 
be recognized. Didn’t any of the young folks, here, 
treat Helen differently when-” 

“Yes,” interrupted Grace, indignantly, “they did, 
and I’ve had my opinion of them ever since. Every¬ 
body ran after her when she was rich ; some of the 
girls were positively sickening in their manner, and 



THE CONWAYS. 


43 


they are the ones who do not know her now. I 
think she must feel greatly relieved; I know I 
should.’^ 

‘‘I noticed that some of your friends were not 
particularly cordial the night of the party, ” said Zana, 
triumphantly. 

“ They were my acquaintances,’' corrected Grace. 

My friends are all sensible enough to like anyone 
who is worth liking. ” 

“ I think you can’t have many friends, then. Of 
course, in this little out-of-the-way village, one can 
do what couldn’t be done in the city. I might love 
our washerwoman to distraction, but if I attempted 
to associate with her on equal terms I would soon 
have no one else with whom to associate.” 

“ I wouldn’t be dictated to by those who have 
no right to superintend my affairs,” replied Grace, 
resolutely. “I would be independent enough to 
choose the companions I wanted most, wherever I 
lived. ” 

“No, you wouldn’t,” answered Zana. “You 
don’t know what you are talking about. I wish 
your mother would let you spend a year with me ; 
you’d soon see how one-sided your notions are.” 

“Thanks for the compliment!” Grace laughed, 
but her cousin could see that she was not pleased. 

“That sounded rude, I know,” said Zana; “but 
you don’t have a very high opinion of me, Grace, 
and I want to make you see that you are judging 
me by some laws that other folks wouldn’t recognize 
at all. You would like me better if you would try 
to understand what-” 



44 


THE CONWAYS. 


“ Why, Zana, what are you talking about ? I love 
you dearly, and you ought to know it.” 

“You love me, of course, but you don’t quite 
approve of me. You think I care too much for the 
opinions of others. Nearly every day you and Ned 
laugh at Rob and me, because you think we are not 
independent. That is because you have no idea of 
anything beyond this village ; if you had you would 
know that a person can’t do entirely as he pleases, 
and would have no right to do so if he could. ” 

Zana spoke with unusual earnestness. She liked 
Grace better than any other girl she had ever known, 
and wished to have her good opinion. Although 
she did not know it, herself, she was a little jealous 
of Helen. It irritated her to have Grace go to Helen 
to talk over every matter which the girls considered 
important, instead of asking, her judgment. 

“ I wonder what I have said or done to make you 
think that I have so poor an opinion of you ? ” said 
Grace. “ Why, I have been thinking all the time 
that you would have a poor opinion of me ! Zana, 
darling,” throwing one arm around her cousin’s waist, 
“ I just believe you and I are two great geese ! ” 

“So do I,” answered Zana, with a happy laugh. 
“Andnow that we know it, we ought to understand 
each other better. ” 

While the girls talked they had been slowly walk¬ 
ing towards Mrs. Dayne’s home, and now found 
themselves opposite her gate. 

“ Shall we go in ? ” asked Grace. 

“As you like,” answered Zana, thinking that, 
after all, she could do as she pleased in this country 


THE CONWAYS. 


45 


town and be in no danger of criticism from her city 
friends. 

Grace walked into the pleasant little sitting-room 
without knocking, and found no one there; then 
with the freedom of a privileged acquaintance, she 
went through the house to the summer kitchen in 
the rear, where Helen was found at work over a tub 
of clothes just from the boiler. 

“Hello!” said Grace, “I was afraid we’d find 
you here. We want you to go with us to the 
Springs ; Zana hasn't seen them yet.” 

Helen flushed a little, when she saw Zana, but 
welcomed her quietly, then went in search of chairs 
for her guests. 

“ I must ask you to sit here, girls,” she said, 
“ and excuse me if I work while we talk. Mamma 
was quite worn out, and I promised to get these 
clothes out if she would take a nap.” 

“ Oh, dear 1 then you can’t go with us,” ex¬ 
claimed Grace, in a tone of disappointment. 

“ I’m afraid not ; I wish I could.” 

“ How long will it take you.?” glancing at the 
tub. 

“An hour at least. Don’t wait for me; perhaps 
I can go next time.” 

“ If one person can do a certain task in one hour, 
two persons can do the same task in one-half of one 
hour,” said Grace, rolling up her sleeves, “ there¬ 
fore-” 

“No, no, Grace, you mustn’t 1 ” interposed Helen. 
“It wouldn’t be treating your cousin fairly; be¬ 
sides, I am not sure but it may take longer.” 



46 


THE CONWAYS. 


‘‘ If you’ll get Zana a rocking-chair, she will wait 
any length of time,” answered Grace. 

“ And a book, too ! ” called Zana, as Helen went 
for the chair. 

“ What kind of book .? ” asked Helen. ' 

“Oh, a good short story. I don’t want to begin 
anything and leave it half finished.” 

“ Lend me an apron, please,” said Grace, when 
Helen returned. “ Which shall I do, grind or 
souzle.? ” 

“You may souzle,” replied Helen with a laugh, 
and Grace began to rinse the clothes while Helen 
turned the wringer. 

“ I thought we should find them here,” said a 
voice from the back doorway, a few moments later, 
and Ned and Rob walked into the kitchen. 

“ When I can’t find Grace at home, I always 
look for her here,” said Ned. “Have a seat, Rob ; 
let’s make ourselves at home.” Then, as if sud¬ 
denly recollecting himself, he jumped from the 
chair, and made a low bow to Helen. 

“ Good afternoon. Miss Dayne,” he said with ex¬ 
aggerated politeness, “ I really hope I see you well, 
madam ! ” 

“ Quite well, thank you,” answered Helen, “ but 
not at home to callers. Will you oblige me by re¬ 
turning to your own vine and fig-tree V’ 

“ My dear madam, I regret to say that it will not 
be possible for me to accede to your most flattering 
request. ” 

“ What are you here for, boys .? ” demanded 
Grace. 


THE CONWAYS, 


47 

“We heard you say you were going to the 
Springs,” began Rob. 

“ So concluded to cut across lots and get there 
first, ” finished Ned. “You girls make us a great deal 
of trouble ! We waited until we were worn out, then 
started out to find you. ” 

“ We had planned-” began Rob. 

“ Hush ! ” exclaimed Ned, putting his hand over 
Rob's mouth. “ Don't tell; it will keep until next 
time. ” 

“We called for Helen,” explained Grace. “We're 
all going as soon as these clothes are out. Now do 
go and leave us in peace.” 

“We should really like to oblige you,” said Ned, 
“ but it is utterly impossible. We think of helping 
you wash. Come on, Rob ! ” 

The girls protested, but in vain. The boys threw 
off their coats, and were soon turning the wringer, 
sudsing the clothes, and washing the girls' faces, as 
if their lives depended on their ability to do a great 
deal in a little while. 

“What's this.?” asked Rob, holding a white skirt 
up to view. 

“ Don’t ask, I beg ! ” replied Ned. “ It belongs 
to Helen. See her blush ! Her face looks uncom¬ 
fortably hot, Rob ; we must cool it for her. ” 

“ Certainly ! ” said .Rob, with great cheerfulness. 

Helen was held over the tub by one of the boys, 
while the other squeezed the water from a sheet 
over her head and face. Grace ran to her assistance, 
and received a similar punishment for her attempt. 

“ Look at Zana ! ” shouted Ned. “ She has sat 



48 


THE CONWAYS. 


there laughing at these poor girls for the last ten 
minutes/' 

“ Such things cannot be allowed," answered Rob, 
with great solemnity. 

Zana jumped from her chair, and started at a run 
for the front door, but Rob caught her before she 
had crossed the room. 

“ Help me, girls ! Oh, please help me ! " begged 
Zana. 

“I can’t," said Helen, “my eyes are full of 
water." 

“The water is running in streams down my 
back," added Grace, who was trying to wring the 
moisture from her hair. 

Zana screamed and struggled, but the boys were 
merciless ; in less time than it takes to tell it, her 
brother had carried her to the tub, and Ned was 
pouring water on her head,. and smiling so cheer¬ 
fully that no one could have failed to see how much 
satisfaction he was getting from the work. 

“ Well, I declare ! " 

The young people looked up quickly to see Mrs. 
Dayne standing in the doorway. She had been 
awakened by the unusual commotion in the kitchen, 
and hastened down to ascertain the cause. 

“ Afternoonee ! " said Ned, who was seldom so 
surprised as to be speechless. “Ah Wing, me!” 
pointing to himself “Heap nicee washee man. 
Che Pang, he I ’’ pointing to Rob. “ He heap nicee 
too." 

Rob bowed with one hand held over his heart, 
the other over his stomach. 


THE CONWAYS. 


^9 


Mrs. Dayne laughed in spite of her attempt to 
look serious. 

“You may be very nice/' she said, “but you are 
not very careful of my floor. How am I ever going 
to do my work \7ithout wetting my feet ? ” 

“You’re not going to try, mamma mine,” said 
Helen. “ I’ll clear up here as soon as my hair stops 
dripping.” 

“ We’ll help,” said Ned ; “ and now, dear madam, 
let me beg of you to take in the beauties of that 
picture. It is called ‘ The Three Graces.’” As he 
spoke he pointed to the girls, who happened to be 
standing near together, each busy trying to get her 
hair dry enough to put up. 

“The mermaids, you mean,” corrected Rob, and 
Ned laughed heartily. 

“Hear Ned laugh,” said Grace in a tone of in¬ 
tense scorn. “One would think Rob had said 
something witty.” 

“ Didn’t you know that when one boy tries to be 
witty the other is pledged to laugh ? ” demanded Zana. 

“ I wonder how they know when the attempt is 
to be made ? ” soliloquized Helen. 

“When it has been made, you mean,” amended 
Grace. 

“Oh dear, what shall I do with my frizzes?” 
wailed Zana. “ Every bit of curl is out of them. I 
can’t go on the street looking like this.” 

“It’s shocking ! positively shocking ! ” exclaimed 
Rob. “Your fortune would be made if Barnum 
could see you now. Oh, that a sister of mine should 
come to this I ” 


4 


50 


THE CONWAYS. 


“You never try to understand how I feel about 
anything, ” complained Zana, ‘ ‘ and you always laugh 
at me.” 

“That is because you are so silly, Zana,” replied 
Rob, bluntly. “ Why can’t you be more like Grace.? 
She isn't worrying because she must go home with 
her hair combed straight back. ” 

Rob’s lecture was interrupted most unexpectedly 
by Grace and Helen, who had crept up behind him 
with a wet sheet in their hands in which they envel¬ 
oped him before he guessed their intention. 

“Lock the doors, Zana!” exclaimed Grace. 
“ Quick, before Ned gets in 1 ” 

Ned had gone for an armful of wood, at Helen’s 
request, and when he heard Rob calling for help, 
found himself locked out. He looked into the win¬ 
dow, and saw Helen and Zana holding the sheet 
which pinioned Rob’s arms, while Grace bathed his 
face with quantities of cold water. 

“If we’ll let you go, now, will you promise not 
to touch us again to-day! ” asked Helen. 

“Yes.” 

“ On your honor as a gentleman ? ” 

“ On my honor as a gentleman.” 

“ Let’s give him his freedom, girls,” she said. 

“No, no; not yet!” interposed Grace. “You 
don’t know boys as I do, Helen ; you have no 
brother. Rob will get Ned to do what he prom¬ 
ised not to. ” 

“That is so,” interrupted Zana. “We know from 
experience. He did so once before,” 


THE CONWAYS. 


51 

'‘Will you promise not to let Ned touch us?” 
asked Grace. 

“It isn’t fair to ask so many questions,” replied 
Rob, resuming his struggles to free himself. 

“ Ha, ha ! young man ; we’ve caught you ! Girls, 
the boy needs another bath ! ” 

The girls prepared to administer more cold water, 
and Ned tapped on the window-pane. 

“Girls!” he called, “if you don’t let me ini’ll 
break a window-pane I ” 

“You don’t dare 1 ” retorted Grace. 

“Three against one I shame I shame!” he said, 
scornfully. 

“We feel best when we are ashamed,” answered 
Helen, cheerfully. 

“Promise, Rob ;” said Grace, “if you don’t prom¬ 
ise soon we’ll pour a pailful of water on you. Will 
you agree not to let Ned touch us ? ” 

“I suppose I must.” 

“You promise on your honor as a gentleman ? ” 

“Yes, on my honor as a gentleman.” 

Then Rob was released, and the doors unlocked. 

“ That was pretty tough, old fellow,” said 
Ned. 

“Yes,” replied Rob, “but I’ve only promised to 
let them alone for the rest of the day. To-morrow 
is before us/’ 

“Oh, the glorious to-morrow!” exclaimed Ned, 
dramatically. 

The young folks went to work in earnest, and 
soon the washing was on the line, and the kitchen 
in perfect order. The time had passed much more 


52 


THE CONWAYS. 


quickly than Aey knew, and they were surprised at 
the lateness of the hour. 

“ We’ve got to run for all we’re worth,” said Ned, 
“or we shall be late for dinner, and that will not 
please father.” 

“Let us go to the Springs this afternoon,” said 
Grace, “ and take our supper with us.” 

The plan was agreed to by all, and the Conways 
started for home. 

It was not until Zana heard Grace tell her mother 
where and how the time had been spent, that she 
realized that she had actually helped a washer¬ 
woman’s daughter do a washing, and enjoyed it. 

“It was fun,” she thought, “but I do hope that 
none of my city acquaintances will ever hear of 
it ! ” 


THE CONWAYS. 


53 


CHAPTER IV. 

“It seems to me,” said Mr. Conway, when Grace 
had finished her account of the forenoon, “ that Oak- 
wood ought to be making some improvements.” 

“I have thought so too,” replied Mrs. Conway. 
“Ours is a very slow little town, I fear.” 

“If the Oakwood young people could think of 
something besides play,” began Mr. Conway, when 
he was interrupted by Ned, who never could endure 
to hear his companions spoken of slightingly : 

“What have the young people to do about it, I 
should like to know,” he said. 

Had he been at all suspicious, he might have 
guessed by his mother’s air of consciousness that 
the subject was not new to her. 

“They might have a great deal to do about it,” 
said Mr. Conway, “and I am surprised that they 
don’t evince some interest in such matters. I won¬ 
der if all young folks are disappointing in such 
respects } ” 

It was evident to the mother, though not to the 
rest, that Mr. Conway was endeavoring to arouse 
Ned’s indignation. 

“ I don’t understand you, sir ; are not such matters 
in the hands of the city fathers.? ” 

“In a village like ours a great many improve- 


54 


THE CONWAYS. 


ments are needed,” said Mr. Conway. ‘‘The elder 
residents are too busy to realize the need, and not at 
all inclined to raise money for the purpose. There 
are usually a large number of care-free young people 
with plenty of leisure and not wanting in ability. 
It strikes me that they are the proper persons to 
undertake such work. ” 

“But if the village can't pay-” began Ned. 

“Some cities have enterprising residents who 
manage such things without causing an increased 
rate of taxation,” said Mr. Conway, interrupting 
him. 

“ It is a new thought to me,” replied Ned, his face 
showing how greatly interested he had become. 

“Few young people do think of questions of im¬ 
portance,” said Mr. Conway; “that is what I com¬ 
plain of.” 

“ Ned, let’s talk it over,” exclaimed Grace, eagerly. 
“I can think of many needed improvements. I’ve 
often thought of things that I wished could be done. 
Let’s get to work. ” 

“ Nice work for a girl ! ” answered Ned. 

“Just the kind of work for a girl,” said the father. . 
“Ladies have good taste in such matters, and may 
be very helpful in raising funds.” 

“I think that’s so,” replied Ned, promptly. “I 
didn’t look at it in the right light at first. What had 
you in mind, Grace } ” 

“First, I would plant trees along the sides of the 
streets-” 

“The streets should be graded first,” interrupted 
Ned, “ or the trees might have to be reset.” 




THE CONWAYS. 


55 


“You need more sidewalks, too,” said Zana. 

“You ought to have your streets paved,” put in 
Rob. 

“I think it will be some years before we can have 
such extensive improvements,” said Mr. Conway, 
smiling, “ but a beginning should have been made 
long ago. I have wished that we might have a 
park.” 

“ I wonder if we could get the other young people 
interested t ” said Ned. 

‘ ‘ It will do no harm to try, ” answered Grace. 
“Oh, I have an idea ! ” she exclaimed, suddenly. 

“Salt it ! ” said Ned, passing the salt. 

“ Let’s get up a sort of proclamation,” she con¬ 
tinued, “and send it to everybody. ‘Hear ye! 
Hear ye ! Hear ye ! ’ ” she pretended to be reading 
from her hand, “ ‘a great public park is to be laid 
out around the Springs, one of the most beautiful 
spots- 

“We might have an item printed in the Journal,” 
suggested Ned, putting a stop to a further hearing 
of her proclamation by holding one hand over her 
mouth. 

“Why not publish a paper devoted to the interests 
of city improvements,” suggested Mrs. Conway. 

“Oh, wouldn’t that be fun ! ” cried Grace, clapping 
her hands. “ Did you ever help to get up a paper, 
Zana .? ” 

“No, and I think I don’t want to. I hate to write 
compositions.” 

“This is very different,” said Grace. 

“ Grace and I have edited dozens of papers,” said 



56 


THE CONWAYS. 


Ned. ^‘1 don’t like to write compositions either, 
but we don’t have such things in our papers ; we 
just say what we happen to think about most any¬ 
thing ! ” 

“Oh, most lucid explanation!” exclaimed Zana, 
with her eyes on the ceiling. 

“You understand me, though,” said Ned. “Say 

‘ yes ’ or-” he raised his glass of water and looked 

at her threateningly. 

“Yes, yes, perfectly I ” replied'Zana hastily. 

“Children, do you know what time it is?” 
asked Mrs. Conway, rising hastily from the table. 
“Father, you’ll be late to the office. We’ve sat 
here over an hour. Grace, you must clear away the 
dishes before you get ready for your picnic; you’ll 
have time if you hurry. I want to walk part way 
with your father. ” 

“All right, mother; don’t hurry back. The walk 
will do you good, and I’ll put everything in order 
before I go.” 

“I’ll help,” said Ned, rolling up his sleeves and 
beginning to carry the dishes to the kitchen, “and 
we can go on with our plans while we work.” 

“You may expect to be entertained with nothing 
but plan-making, for the next week,” said Mrs. 
Conway to Rob and Zana. “When those children 
of mine get started on a new idea, they go nearly 
wild.” 

“And so do the rest of us ! ” said Mr. Conway, 
then he ran for the door with Grace in full pur¬ 
suit. 

“You mustn’t touch me now 1 ” he exclaimed as his 



THE COAT WAVS. 


57 


foot touched the first of the porch steps, “Fm safe.’' 

“You will not be so fortunate next time,” called 
Grace, as he went down the walk. 

Mr. Conway often picked a playful quarrel with 
his daughter just as he was about to leave the house,, 
and they had agreed that she should punish him as 
she saw fit if she caught him before he reached the 
porch steps, but beyond that he was safe. 

Grace and Ned often helped each other about their 
allotted tasks, that they might have more time in 
which to talk over plans in which both were inter¬ 
ested. There was never a brother and sister who 
enjoyed each other’s society more than they. The 
mother, knowing how many people never realize 
how blessed they are in having a brother’s or sister’s 
love until they have been deprived of it by death or 
separated by life’s duties, took care to impress on 
the minds of her children the importance of making 
the most of their years together. By so doing, she 
had given them something which wealth could not 
buy, and which would have a lovely influence over 
their whole lives. 

“Our plan bids fair to work beautifully,” said 
Mrs. Conway to her husband, when they had closed 
their gate behind them. 

“Your plan, you mean. If it succeeds you are 
entitled to the honor. ” 

“Don’t say that, please. I couldn’t have done 
a thing had it not been for you. I don’t see how 
you managed to broach the subject so naturally. 
Had I tried it. I’m sure they would have guessed at 
once that we had talked it over.” 


58 


THE CONWAYS. 


“What a conscientious little woman she is ! ” said 
Mr. Conway, playfully. 

On the evening preceding the above conversation, 
Mr. and Mrs. Conway had a long and earnest talk 
about the necessity of providing amusement for 
their children. 

“I cannot believe in amusement which is in¬ 
dulged in simply for the sake of being amused,” 
Mrs. Conway had said. “It is disappointing, and 
young people go from one excess to another in 
search of the pleasure which they never find.” 

“They say they do find it,” replied Mr. Conway. 
“ I often used to envy my young friends, and to wish 
I were not too poor to join their party.” 

“ I have tried it,” said Mrs. Conway. “Before I 
went to a dance I used to imagine I should have a 
nice time, and while I was there I was so excited 
that I never stopped to think whether I was enjoy¬ 
ing myself or not ; but always when I had returned 
home and thought it over, it seemed to me that my 
time had not been used to advantage. Now I look 
back on the hours spent in that way as wasted, and 
I do not want our children to have a similar expe¬ 
rience.” 

“It seems tome that pleasure and profit might 
be so combined as to prove attractive to the young,” 
said Mr. Conway, thoughtfully. 

“ I believe there is no real pleasure which has not 
some worthy aim for a foundation,” answered Mrs. 
Conway. Then, after making and discarding as 
many plans as their children could in the same 


THE CONWAYS. 


59 

length of time, they finally settled on the one just 
outlined. 

When the work was all done as nicely as the 
most exacting housekeeper could have wished, 
Grace and Zana filled a basket with luncheon, then 
went to get ready for the picnic. When they re¬ 
turned to the dining-room they found Ned pulling 
out the contents of the basket, and piling them on 
the table. 

“ What are you doing.? ” inquired Grace, Jiurrying 
to the rescue of the provisions. 

‘ ‘ I wanted to see if you had put in any slices of 
ham,’' replied Ned. ‘‘I’ve been telling Rob how 
good it is cooked on the coals.” 

“ Oh, Ned, what a nuisance you are ! ” exclaimed 
Grace, putting the things back in the basket. “You 
must have pulled the ham out the first thing ; it was 
one of the top bundles.” 

“ How did I know you had wrapped a rag around 
it.? ” asked Ned, as Grace showed him the slices of 
ham rolled in a napkin, 

“It wasn’t necessary for you to know. I think I 
can be trusted to put up the lunch for-” 

“I don’t know whether you can or not,” retorted 
Ned, “ you haven’t put in half bread enough ! You 
must have forgotten how hungry people get at a 
picnic.” 

“Why, Ned-” began Grace, but Zana inter¬ 

rupted. 

“Put in more bread, Grace ; we’ll never get started 
if you stop to convince Ned that he doesn’t know 
more than anyone else about housework.” 




6 o 


THE CONWAYS. 


“ Hear, Zana ! ” exclaimed Ned, laughing. ‘*She 
is miffed, yet, because my cake was all eaten, and 
hers gave the dog a fit of indigestion. Poor old 
Nero, what a stomach-ache he did have ! 

“Ned, you are mean to boast like that!” said 
Grace. “You must remember that Zana never had 
anyone to show her how to cook ; she could do 
better now. You must have another trial, some 
day. There 1 this basket is ready at last. If you 
touch it ^gain, Ned, Til know the reason why.” 

“So will I,” retorted Ned. 

“That doesn’t mean that you can’t carry it,” said 
Grace, quickly. 

“Oh, yes, it does, my dear I ” 

“ Now, Ned 1 ” 

“Now, Grace ! ” he mimicked ; “little girls don’t 
always like to be taken at their word, do they } ” 

“You don’t want Rob to carry that basket, do 
you ? ” 

“ Certainly not; he is company. You must carry 
it yourself.” 

“Very well,” said Grace ; “I will, and we will go 
down Main Street. You take the hammocks, Zana, 
so the boys need not be burdened. I shall enjoy 
showing the people whom we meet how good we 
are to them I ” 

The girls started with the basket and hammocks, 
but the boys relieved them of their burdens before 
they had gone a block, as Grace knew they would. 

“ Oh, Grace ! ” exclaimed Zana; “we forgot to 
take a frying-pan. We’ll have to ask Helen to take 
one. ” 


THE CONWAYS. 


6 i 


A frying-pan ! ” said Ned ; ‘ ‘ I guess not. What 
do we want of a frying-pan .? ” 

“To cook the ham, of course, silly! Did you 
think of eating it raw t ” 

“Hardly!’’ answered Ned. “You don’t know 
the first principles of camping out, do you, Zana.? 
We cut a forked stick, and trim the ends to sharp 
points, which we stick into a slice of ham, then hold 
it over the fire until it is cooked. Everyone must 
cook his own meat.” 

“ I should think it would get.dirty,” said Zana. 

“It does get slightly soiled, if you drop it into the 
ashes, but it tastes just as good.” 

“'We toast bread that way, too,” said Grace; 
“then put the meat on it. You’ll see that we shall 
have finer sandwiches than you ever tasted.” 

“Perhaps,” replied Zana, doubtfully. “How far 
is it to the Springs ? ” 

“ I’ve been expecting to hear Zade ask that,” said 
Rob, laughing. “My dear,” turning to his sister, 
“have you your smelling-salts.? It is nearly five 
miles to the Springs.” 

Zana stood still, and stared at her brother. “I’m 
not going a step farther,” she said. 

“Oh, come on, Zana,” said Grace, laughing; 
“don’t let him tease you; it is only two miles and 
a half.” 

“Only two miles and a half!” echoed Zana. 
“ Do you suppose I can walk that distance.? ” 

“ You may trot, if you prefer,” said Ned. 

“Seriously, Grace,” continued Zana, paying no 
attention to Ned; “I shall be sick for a week if I 


62 


THE CONWAYS. 


undertake it. I had no idea it was so far, or I 
should have told you at once." 

“It will not hurt you at all," replied Grace. 
“Why, Ned and I walked to Williston and back 
once, and that is ten miles from here." 

“ But I never walked more than five or six blocks 
before I came here. You know we have horse-cars 
at home." 

“You’ve danced until two o’clock in the morning," 
said Rob. “Ned, whistle ‘ Coming Thro’ the Rye,' 
please ; Zade and I are going to schottische from 
here to the Springs ! " 

Rob passed the hammocks to Ned, as he spoke, 
then, taking his sister around the waist, danced 
down the street, to her intense disgust, and the great 
amusement of the pedestrians who happened to 
witness the performance, 

Ned and Grace could hardly keep up with them, 
and Ned laughed so heartily that no one could have 
kept step to the music he whistled. When the party 
reached Helen’s door they were all out of breath. 
Mrs. Dayne and Helen had seen them coming, and 
went to the door to meet them. 

“What can ail you ! "exclaimed Helen, and Grace 
explained while they'rested in the cool sitting-room. 

“ I presume I shall be very weary by the time we 
get to the Springs," said Rob. “ I can walk easier 
than I can dance, but it is different with Zade." 

“I have a great mind not to go another step," 
said Zana, who was greatly annoyed, and more 
vexed with her brother than she cared to have 
the others know. 


THE CONWAYS, 63 

* ‘ You’ll have to go,replied Rob, coolly. ‘ ‘ You’re 
engaged for this dance, you know ! ” 

‘‘He will behave,” said Grace, coaxingly. “It 
was awfully mean of him, and he must pay for such 
behavior by being very good all the rest of the day. 
You will let her alone, won’t you, Rob } ” 

“ If she will walk. Zana can walk just as well 
as you and Helen can, if she only thinks so.” 

The tone in which this remark was made, caused 
Zana to look at her brother in surprise. When the 
little party were again on their way she managed 
to fall behind the others, and joined Rob, who was 
walking alone with a very unpleasant frown on his 
face. 

“ Rob,” she said, “ do you really care .? ” 

“ Care about what } ” 

“Because I can’t walk and romp as Grace 
does } ” 

“Yes, I do,” was the emphatic reply. “ I like to 
have you appear just as smart as other girls.” 

A deep flush settled over Zana’s face and neck. 

“ But, Rob,” she said, “ I can do as much as any 
girl in our set. ” 

“What do the girls in our set amount to .? Grace 
is more company for Ned in a minute, than a car¬ 
load of such girls would be in all day ! He says he 
has never thought about wishing for a brother.” 

“ Do you wish for a brother.? ” 

“Of course. I think most boys do if they 
haven’t one. Girls are no real fun, except at parties, 
and then a fellow never dares to say what he thinks 
to them, but must always give them taffy, and talk 


64 


THE CONWAYS. 


nonsense. Grace is different; she is every bit as 
good as a boy 1 ” 

“But I’m afraid she wouldn’t be tolerated in 
society, Rob ; at least, she would be laughed at. 
And—and you used to say that—that you were 
proud of my ladylike ways. ” 

“ Don’t cry, for pity’s sake, Zana ! Let’s not have 
a scene right here; the others will be looking 
around, the first we know. I am proud of your 
ladylike ways, but I want other folks to know that 
ladylike ways are not all there is to you.” 

The conversation was interrupted by Ned, at this 
point, who insisted that they had come to a place 
where it would be perfectly proper for the girls to 
help carry the bundles. 

“If you don’t,” he said, “we will sit down here, 
and eat the contents of one of these baskets ; won’t 
we, Rob” 

“Yes, we’ll begin on Helen’s. I feel equal to it. ” 
So, to save the provisions until tea-time, the girls took 
hold of the handles of the baskets and pretended to 
help, but really did no more than to clasp their fin¬ 
gers around them. The afternoon passed quickly in 
the beautiful grounds around the Springs. The girls 
wore old dresses, thick-soled shoes, and large hats, 
and looked as they felt—comfortable enough to have 
the best kind of a time. Zana had learned a valuable 
lesson in respect to dressing for such occasions, since 
the day when they went after plums. 

As soon as the sun began to hide behind the 
treetops, Rob kindled a fire on a bare spot of ground 
near the Springs, and Ned went in search of the long 


THE CONWAYS. 


65 


wooden forks which were to serve in cooking meat 
and toasting bread, and for three strong ^rotched 
sticks which were to support a kettle “gypsy-fash¬ 
ion,”’ in which the girls were to make chocolate. 
The long afternoon in the open air had left them all 
very hungry, and Zana said she believed she could 
eat the meat, now, even if it were rolled in ashes. 

There are few places of greater natural beauty 
than this spot which, at that time, had no more pre¬ 
tentious name than The Springs, but is now called 
Conway Springs, in honor of the successful efforts 
made by Ned and Grace to have ten acres around 
them purchased by the town foi* a park. Three cold 
water springs within a stone’s-throw of each other, 
were so situated that they resembled, somewhat, a 
letter A, the top of which was placed more than half 
way up a steep hill known as the S.ugarloaf, the 
lower part of the letter coming within about ten feet 
of the foot of the hill. From the upper spring a 
pretty brook ran straight do\'^n into the little lake at 
the foot of the hill. Between that brook and one of 
the lower springs was a large flat rock, on which a 
dozen persons could eat a dinner without being un¬ 
comfortably crowded. The two lower springs were 
afterward turned into two very pretty little fountains, 
which, with the little brook racing down the steep 
sides of old Sugarloaf, are worth going miles to see. 

“Rescue the perishing,” sang Rob, picking a fly 
out of the butter, and laying it on Zana’s hand. 

“Please don't, Rob,” said Grace, to whom the 
hymn was dear. 

“Ow-wow ! ” screamed Zana, shaking her hand to 

5 


66 


THE CONWAYS. 


get rid of the poor greasy insect, “take it off, Rob, 
do !” 

“Don’t hurt it,” commanded Rob, holding her 
hand still, “the poor little thing is going to crawl 
around on your hand until it is able to fly.” 

“ Ow-wow-wow! let go my hand, this minute!” 
Zana showed strong symptoms of hysterics. 

“ Now, my child, don’t get into a panic,” said Rob, 
soothingly. “The fly can’t hurt you and it is gain¬ 
ing health rapidly. You have a great deal of mes¬ 
merism, Zana, and that is what is necessary to the 
well-being of a greasy fly. Should he help himself 
to a drop of your life-blood ever and anon, don’t let 
it trouble you. ” 

Zana struggled desperately to release her hand, 
and the more she struggled the worse it seemed to 
her to have the fly there. 

‘ ‘ Rob Conway, you ought to be ashamed of your¬ 
self!” exclaimed Helen. 

‘' I never knew anyone who had a greater amount 
of electricity,” said Rob, appearing to be too greatly 
interested in Zana to hear what was said to him. 
“See how violently it causes her hand to jerk! 
Really, she looks like a person struggling to free 
herself from something disagreeable; yet, ladies 
and gentlemen, I assure you that she is quite con¬ 
tented to sit here with her lily-white hand in mine. 
She is—oh, great guns ! ” 

Grace had suddenly thrown both arms around him, 
pinioning his arms to his sides, while Helen held a 
slice of the uncooked ham pressed close against his 
face. Zana went to the girls’ assistance as soon as 


THE COJVIVAVS. 


67 


her hands were released, and the young man received 
nearly as much punishment as he deserved before 
Ned, who had gone in search of more wood, came 
to help him. 

How much time can be spent in getting and eating 
supper out of doors, and what great fun it is ! The 
child who has never been given a chance to try it 
has missed one of the pleasantest experiences of life. 

“Rob and I have been to picnics,” said Zana, 
when the tired party were at home again, “but we 
never had half as much fun as we have had to-day. ” 

“They were cut-and-dried picnics,” said Rob, 
“where everything was planned beforehand and 
made to go by rule. At a certain time everyone ran 
to look at something, and if one individual happened 
to run in the opposite direction, the plans got into a 
snarl, and so did all the people. ” 


68 


THE CONWAYS. 


CHAPTER V. 

“Well/’ said Mr. Conway, the next morning, as 
the little family gathered around the breakfast-table, 
“ have you young people made any plans worth 
hearing } ” 

‘ ‘ Lots of them ! ” answered Grace, promptly. 
“Our plans are always worth hearing, aren’t they, 
mamma } ” 

“ I think so,” replied Mrs. Conway. 

“This is a case in which I should like to be judge,” 
said Mr. Conway. 

“It would take until noon to hear them all,” 
added Zana. “ I never saw anyone like Grace and 
Ned, about plan-making, and Rob is getting to be 
just like them.” 

“ Great compliment to Rob ! ” said Ned. 

“ Hear old Egotism ! ” remarked Rob. 

“If there are too many plans, tell me of some of 
your decisions,” said Mr. Conway. 

“Did we reach any decisions, Ned } ” asked Grace, 
laughing. 

“Only to circulate a paper, I believe.” 

“How many copies.?” was Mr. Conway’s next 
question. Sometimes his children complained that 
he took their plan-making too seriously, but to-day 


THE COAT WAVS. 69 

they were glad to have him act as if their plans 
were worth considering. 

“ WeVe talked of fifty,” replied Ned, “but I don’t 
know as we can do it. We should like to get the 
grown folks interested as well as the younger ones.” 

“ It will be quite a task to get out so many papers, 
will it not ? ” 

“We will all be in danger of having writers 
cramp,” said Rob. “I tell Ned that he ought to 
have a small printing-press.” 

“And I asked him where the money was to come 
from,” said Ned. 

“ If I believed you were really in earnest about 
this thing-” began Mr. Conway. 

“Oh, papa, what would you do.?” Grace had 
left her place at the table, and had both arms around 
her father’s neck. “Would you buy us a printing- 
press, papa ? We’ve always wished we had one.” 

‘ ‘ See here. Squirrel ! do you mean to choke your 
old father to death ? ” 

“ Not quite.” Grace relaxed her hold, and seated 
herself on her father’s knee. 

“ How can I eat my breakfast with you here ? ” 
he inquired, with assumed anxiety. 

“You don’t need to eat until you have answered 
my question.” 

“ What question .? ” 

“You are just as provoking as Ned is, papa ! This 
is the question : ‘ Have you the remotest idea of 

buying a printing-press for Ned and me ? ’ ” 

“I was wondering what sort of a Christmas 
present it would make. ” 



70 


THE CONWAYS. 


“ Oh, father ! let us have it now,” pleaded Ned. 

“I can’t afford to buy that, and Christmas pre¬ 
sents too.” 

“ Then we will get along without Christmas pres¬ 
ents, this year.” 

‘ ‘ Do you agree to that. Pussy } ” asked the father, 
pinching Grace’s ear. 

Grace hesitated a moment. Although she was 
sixteen years old, she enjoyed Christmas presents 
as much as a child, and both she and Ned always 
hung up their stockings on Christmas Eve, and 
examined the contents early the next morning in the 
mother’s bedroom. 

“Yes,” she said, finally ; “we’ll promise not to 
expect one thing from you on Christmas ; of course 
mother can put some little thing in our stockings, 
just to have the day seem natural to us.” 

“ You silly baby ! ” said ]\Ir. Conway. 

“ Not silly at all ! ” interposed ]\Irs. Conway. “ I 
shall enter into no bargains which will prevent my 
putting something into the children’s stockings as 
long as I have them with me.” 

“ Great Scott, mother ! ” exclaimed Ned, “ what a 
contract you’ve taken. I’m going to live here 
always. ” 

“ No, you’re not,” said Grace, “ unless you remain 
single ! No sister-in-law will ever divide honors 
with me.” 

“Humph!” retorted Ned, “you won’t be here. 
You’ll be married and in a home of your own. 
No brother-in-law will ever divide honors with 
me I ” 


THE CONWAYS. 


71 


“Stop quarrelling, children,” said Mrs. Conway, 
laughing. “I hope it will be many years before 
either of you are married; but when you are, you 
may stay at home if you want to. There will be 
room enough for all.” 

Rob and Zana exchanged glances. Both knew 
that the other looked forward eagerly to the time 
when they could leave home when they pleased. 
They almost envied their cousins their happy home 
surroundings. 

“My breakfast is nearly cold,” said Mr. Conway, 
and Grace jumped to her feet instantly. 

“You poor papa, ” she said, ‘ ‘ how thoughtless I’ve 
been ! I’m going to make you a slice of toast.” 

Mr. Conway was very fond of the toast Grace 
made, and never refused a slice when offered. 
While he was waiting for it, he asked Ned how he 
proposed to go to work. 

Ned promptly drew a card from his pocket and 
read with an air of great importance : “ First, inter¬ 

est the young people ; second, determine what im¬ 
provement we wish to begin on ; third, estimate the 
cost and find out where the money is coming from ; 
fourth, ask the village council if they will accept 
such improvement as a gift to the city; fifth, raise 
the money and go to work.” 

“Very good, Ned!” exclaimed Mr. Conway. 
“That is business-like, indeed.” 

“Thank you, sir,” answered Ned, with laughing 
eyes. “ In business ability I greatly resemble my 
father, but I inherit my extreme beauty from my 
lovely mother.” 


72 


THE CONWAYS. 


“He must mean the end of his nose by ‘his ex¬ 
treme beauty/ ” said Zana, in an undertone. 

“You look like mother exclaimed Grace, scorn¬ 
fully. She had returned with the toast in time to 
hear Ned’s last speech. “You know better, Ned! 
Everyone says I am the picture of her, and I know 
you don’t resemble me.” 

“Don’t I Oh, say it again 1” Ned fell back in 
his chair, and fanned himself with a slice of bread. 
“Oh, the refreshing relief,” he murmured. “It 
followed your assertion like sunshine after a thunder¬ 
storm. ” 

“Oh 1 oh 1 oh ! ” exclaimed the other young peo¬ 
ple, falling back and fanning themselves exactly as 
he had done, and looking comical enough to provoke 
a smile from the most solemn individual ever seen. 

“ We can’t stand anything so poetic as that, Ned,” 
said Grace. “Please don’t do it again.” 

“Or give us warning, when you feel as if it must 
come,” suggested Rob. 

“ Let’s have a game of tennis before you wash the 
dishes, girls,” proposed Ned. 

“All right I Excuse us, mother,” Grace said, “I’ll 
hurry back. It won’t take long to beat them, will 
it, Rob.? ” 

“If they wait to beat us, mother,” called Ned, 
“ you’d better wash your own dishes 1 ” 

The young folks hurried from the house, like little 
children from a schoolroom, and the father and 
mother were left for a quiet talk together. 

Mrs. Conway was not a particularly pretty woman, 
but her children thought her beautiful, and nothing 


THE CONWAYS. 


73 


pleased them more than to be told that they resem¬ 
bled her. Ever since they were old enough to think 
of such things, there had been a good-natured rivalry 
between them as to which resembled her more 
nearly. 

Mrs. Conway and Grace were more like two girls 
together than like mother and daughter, and the 
chivalrous, tender affection which Ned showed for 
his mother, gained him many more friends than he 
dreamed of. Other mothers envied Mrs. Conway, 
and wished their children were as affectionate and 
obedient as hers, and the young people, even they 
who were given much more liberty than Ned and 
Grace, and had less work to do, envied them their 
pleasant home. 

Oakwood was a busy, western village of about two 
thousand inhabitants, surrounded by the finest farm¬ 
ing country in Minnesota. Mr. Conway was its 
best known and best liked lawyer, and one of the 
oldest residents. He was also president of the vil¬ 
lage council, an office which he had held ever since 
Oakwood was organized. His propositions were 
usually endorsed by the other members of the coun¬ 
cil, and he had no doubt that the village would be 
glad to accept whatever improvements the young 
people might be induced to make. 

“There comes Helen! Oh, I’m so glad 1 ” ex¬ 
claimed Grace, that afternoon as the girls finished 
washing the dinner dishes. “Now we can talk it 
all over. 

‘ ‘ Good-afternoon, Miss Dayne, ” said Rob. ‘ ‘ Hurry 
right in, please ; Grace wants to talk it all over I ” 


74 


THE CONWAYS. 


“Talk what over ? asked Helen. 

“She didn't say what.” 

“Oh, you silly!” said Grace. “You know well 
enough that I meant our paper. ” 

“ Have you decided to go on with it } ” inquired 
Helen. 

“Nearly. Just think, Helen, father talks of 
getting us a printing-press I ” 

“That will be fine ! By the way, who is to be 
editor?” 

“"We haven’t made any plans since we saw you,” 
said Ned. “You know you are one of the syndi¬ 
cate.” 

“I am very glad of that, Ned; I shall enjoy the 
work immensely, I know. Well, suppose we go to 
work as if we were sure of the printing-press. I 
propose Grace for editor.” 

“No, no,” said Grace. “I think Ned would do 
better. ” 

“Pshaw 1 ” exclaimed Ned. “I can’t write. Do 
you remember my poetry ? ” 

“I do,” said Zarta; then in a tone which would 
have done justice to an orator, she quoted : “This 
leaf is known by the name of poplar, but what else to 
say I don’t know no more than our old gobbler. ” 

Ned joined in the laughter at his expense, then 
said, “I’d feel awfully about that poetry, if I hadn’t 
known a few nice men who were not poets. But to 
business: I’d like to be business manager of our 
paper, with Rob as assistant.” 

“Just the thing 1 ” exclaimed the girls, and it was 
considered settled. 


THE CONWAYS, 


75 


“Then Grace must be editor,” said Helen. “ Tm 
not at all suited to such work, and Zana will soon 
be going home.” 

“She can be editor-in-chief, with you and Zana 
for assistants,” said Ned, and so it was decided. 

Mr. Conway came home earlier than usual that 
afternoon, and his children knew before he had 
spoken that he had good news for them. 

“We are to have the press, I know ! ” exclaimed 
Grace. 

“Yes, dear,” said Ned, giving her a bear’s hug, 
“ here it is ! Who else is included in the ‘ we .?" Who 
wants a press ? ” and he looked at the other girls 
with both arms extended, but they begged to be 
excused. 

“When will it be here, papa } ” asked Grace. 

“Day after to-morrow, I think.” 

“ How much will it cost } ” inquired Ned. 

“Fifty dollars. Quite an expensive plaything, 
isn’t it ? ” 

“I am afraid it is more expensive than you can 
afford. Couldn’t you have bought one cheaper.? ” 

“Yes, my son, but not nearly so good. There is 
no reason why a very nice paper should not be 
printed on this.” 

“I believe there will be, some day, papa,” said 
Grace. 

That evening, Grace got the dictionary, and began 
studying the rules for proof-reading, and soon became 
so absorbed that she was oblivious to all else. 

“ Grace goes at things with such desperate earnest¬ 
ness,” said Zana, who was watching her. “She 


76 


THE CONWAYS. 


even plays as if her life depended on her accomplish¬ 
ing just so much.” 

Then, finding that Grace was too busy even to 
hear her, she opened her book and began to read. 
Some half hour later, Rob happened to notice her. 
Creeping stealthily up behind her, he reached over 
her shoulder and took the book from her hand. 

“What is it that you find so interesting?” he 
asked, then read aloud from the book : “The Lady 
Geraldine lay unconscious in the arms of her lover, 
who pressed her fondly to his heart.” 

“Rob, stop that,” commanded Zana. “You 
ought to be ashamed of yourself! ” 

“Why?” asked Rob. “Is it worse to read it 
aloud than to read it to one’s self? You looked as 
if you were enjoying it. ” 

“Read it again, Rob ; it is beautiful ! ” said Ned, 
his face alive with mischief. 

Rob read it over and over until all the family 
begged, declaring that it almost made them sick. 

“Such things don’t sound well, I know,” began 
Zana, “but-” 

“But they’re lovely in real life,” said Ned, in¬ 
terrupting her. “Is that it, Zana?” 

Zana was too vexed to reply. 

“Silence gives consent,” said Rob. “I have a 
mind to try acting a scene for her benefit.” 

As he spoke, a new idea flashed across his mind. 

“I’ll doit ! ’’ he exclaimed, taking his sistei^ much 
against her will, before the long mirror at the other 
end of the room, and placing her where she could get 
a good view of herself. 



THE CONWAYS. 


77 


“ Now,” said he, as he put his arms around her 
and drew her head to his shoulder, ‘'you are the 
Lady Geraldine, and I am the lover ! ‘Oh, you boo- 
tiful itty, tootsy-wootsy ?'—young lady, open your 
eyes and look in that glass ! you have got to see 
how such things look. Ned, I think you’ll have to 
come and hold her eyes open ; I can’t do two things 
at once.” 

‘ ‘ With pleasure, ” responded Ned. “ Look, Zana, ” 
he added as he held her eyelids open, “isn’t that 
a scene to make a crocodile weep t ” 

“Boys, don’t be rough,” said Mrs. Conway, and 
Zana was released at once, when she left the room 
without speaking. 

“She is offended,” said Ned. 

“She will get over it,” answered Rob, carelessly, 
“audit may make her sick of such trashy stories. 
She brought as many as a dozen with her, and when 
she gets started on one she can’t think of anything 
else.” 

They will ruin her mind,” said Mrs. Conway, 
who had been examining the book which Rob had 
taken from Zana, “ and she ought not to read such 
trash ; but I’m afraid your way of exerting an influ¬ 
ence will not be successful, Rob, my boy.” 

“I don’t know that I started to exert an influence,” 
answered Rob. “I think my principal idea was to 
have a little fun. I hardly think I should be able to 
influence Zana, even if I wished to do so.” 

“There is something wrong somewhere, if that is 
a fact,” said Mrs. Conway. “You ought to have 
as much influence over her as your parents have, 


78 


THE CONWAYS. 


and she over you. I should be very sorry if my 
children did not care to please each other. If you 
think it is wrong for Zana to read such books, and 
you have good reason for thinking so, it is your duty 
to try to get her to stop it. If you don ’t try, you are 
partially to blame for whatever harm they may do her.” 

Rob made no reply, but it was evident that his 
thoughts were started in a new direction, and no 
one was surprised when he arose and went in search 
of Zana. He found her sitting at one end of the 
porch, crying bitterly. 

“Why, Zana,” he said, taking a seat beside her, 
“what ails you.? Did we hurt you.? We played 
rougher than we should, I know.” 

“I am not hurt,” replied Zana. “I should not 
cry if I were ; but—but you are always ridiculing 
me before folks, Rob, and I don’t like it. Ned never 
treats Grace as you do me, and you never acted as 
you have since we came here.” 

“It is because you are so silly when compared 
with Grace, ” replied Rob, blundering, as a boy is 
apt to at such times. 

“Thank you ! ” said Zana, stiffly, “that is one of 
the speeches which one enjoys hearing from one’s 
brother.” 

“You know well enough what I mean,” said Rob, 
desperately. “If a fellow cares anything at all for 
his sister, he wants her to appear as well as other 
girls-” 

“That will do, Rob,” said Zana, coldly; “you 
may keep the remainder of that fine speech for the 
girls who are perfect enough to please you. ” 


THE CONWAYS. 


79 


With that parting shot, Zana went into the house 
and up to her own room, leaving her brother alone. 

‘ ‘ Just as I expected, ” said Rob. ‘ ‘ We never have 
understood each other, and never shall. I’ll act as 
if nothing had happened, to-morrow, and so will 
she, and that will be the end of it. There is no use 
in our trying to chum it as Ned and Grace do.” 


CHAPTER VI. 


Two weeks passed, and the first issue ot the new 
paper, “The Oakwood Transcript,” was nearly 
ready for mailing. 

Mr. Conway deposited fifty dollars in the bank 
which the children were to have for a reserve fund, 
and agreed to take his pay in advertising. Ned had 
succeeded in securing several advertisem,ents from 
business men in town with whom he was acquainted, 
and it was evident that the young people were 
going to take up their new amusement in a business¬ 
like manner. 

“I think it will prove to be money well invested,” 
said Mr. Conway to his wife, when they had returned 
to the sitting-room after watching the young people 
who were spending the evening in setting type. It 
was new work and not easy, but even Rob and 
Zana found it fascinating, and could hardly wait to 
see the first complete copy of “ The Oakwood 
Transcript.” 

Helen worked hard all day, helping her mother 
with the washing, for they always took in extra 
work during vacation, but her evenings were now 
spent with the Conways, in the room which they 
had fitted up for their office and work-room. 

“Oh dear!” she said, as Mr. and Mrs. Conway 


THE CONWAYS. 


8i 


left the room, I wish we might have some illus¬ 
trations for our paper. 

“You are the artist of the crowd,’'replied Zana, 
‘ ‘ why don’t you furnish them ” 

“ I might draw something, but how could we get 
it printed ? I don’t know the first thing about wood¬ 
engraving. ” 

“You ought to learn,” said Rob. “ I know a 
fellow who /s going to be a wood-engraver. He 
says he expects to make piles of money, and he 
can’t draw as well as you do. I should think it 
would be much easier work than washing.” 

“ It would be much pleasanter, at any rate. 
Whenever I read a story that I like, I wish I could 
illustrate it just as I see it in my mind. Oh, Ned, 
don’t put that advertisement in in that way ! It looks 
awfully stiff. ” 

“ What difference does that make } ” asked Rob ; 
“it is only an advertisement. Ned, can’t you put 
some rosebuds around the hardware man’s ad. .? ” 

“ I think we should make every part of the paper 
look as attractive as possible,” answered Helen, 
“ but I am not sure that stoves and rosebuds would 
produce the proper effect. ” 

“I want the ads. to attract attention, whether 
anything else does or not,” said Ned, “ for that is 
the way to get more. We ought to make enough 
from our advertising to pay our running ^expenses 
after a while. Helen, I do wish you could draw 
pictures for my advertisements. ” 

“So do I. Wouldn’t it be fun ! We might get 
more advertisements than the ‘Oakwood Journal,’ 


82 


THE CONWAYS. 


If you would put that entire line in capitals, Ned, it 
would look better. If I could, I would make that 
line 'Our,’ then a picture of some shoes, then one of 
a shoemaker’s last. See .? ‘ Our shoes last ! ’ ” 

“That would be immense!” exclaimed Ned. 
“ Helen, why can’t you learn .? ” 

“For the same reason that I can’t take a trip to 
Europe,” replied Helen, with a laugh. “ I wish we 
had a few fancy letters, Ned,” she added; “they 
would help a great deal. ” 

“ Hel-e-e-n I ” shouted Rob, with his mouth close 
to Helen’s ear. 

“ Mercy 1 ” exclaimed Helen. “ Why don’t you 
frighten anyone to death .? ” 

“ I mean to,” replied Rob, coolly, “ if she doesn’t 
pay some attention to me. I spoke to you three 
times, and you couldn’t so much as hear the echo 
of my dulcet tones. ” 

“ Well, what is it.^* I am listening.” 

“ Don’t be in a hurry, my child 1 I wish to take 
my time. Mine is a question which cannot be dealt 
with in haste. Haste and questions of importance 
were never intended to go together. Haste makes 
waste, and my time is far too precious to be reck¬ 
lessly thrown away. Time, my dear young lady, 

is money. The more time you have, the more-” 

“Tell me when you have finished your discourse,” 
interrupted Helen ; “I am going to work, now.” 

“ No,'you’re not 1 You are going to give me 
your exclusive attention for as long a time as you 
devoted to Ned. I’ll have you understand that I am 
of just as much importance as he is. As I was 



THE CONWAYS. 83 

about to say,—ahem ! what was I about to say, 
Ned?” » 

“ I don’t know; wasn’t it about the tariff ques¬ 
tion ? ” 

“ Oh, yes replied Rob. 

“Don’t worry, Helen,” said Grace, “it won’t 
take him long to tell all he knows on that sub¬ 
ject.” 

“That depends entirely on the way I tell it,” re¬ 
plied Rob. “I can make a few ideas go a long way, 
when I undertake to. I’ll drop the tariff, Helen, if 
you will tell me how these headlines ought to be set.” 

“That is all he wanted to say in the first place,” 
said Zana. 

“ Of course,” replied Rob ; “but I wanted to have 
it seem as important as some of the conversations 
between Ned and Helen.” 

The young people worked and planned and joked 
each other, and the hours passed so swiftly that they 
could hardly believe it when Mrs. Conway came to 
tell them that the office must be closed for the night. 
She insisted on her children keeping early hours, 
much to their disgust at times ; but she assured them 
that by that means she was securing to them her best 
legacy, and insisted on being obeyed. 

Ned walked home with Helen, and Grace went 
into her mother’s room and locked the door. 

“Mother, how much would it cost for a girl to 
learn wood-engraving ? ” 

“I don’t know, child; it is something I never 
thought about. Why do you ask ? ” 

“Do you suppose it is a paying business ? ” 


84 


THE CONWAYS. 


have always thought so; but I really don’t 
kn«w. Why, Grace ? ” 

“ I wish Helen could take it up. I hate to think of 
her spending her time over the washtub when she 
is capable of better things.” 

“I thought she hoped to be an artist.” 

“She does; but papa says no young artist can 
make his living, and Helen has no one to help her.” 

“Well.?” asked the mother, smiling. 

“ I believe you know what Tm thinking about, 
mother.” Grace threw herself on a low stool, and 
rested her head on her mother’s knee. 

“Is it the new cloak.? ” 

“That is just it. Does my old one look so very 
shabby.? ” 

“It doesn’t look very well.” 

“I have forty-five dollars saved up for the new 
cloak. That is what Susie Long’s astrachan cost. 
I suppose it would give Helen quite a start.” 

The mother did not answer, but gently stroked the 
tumbled hair. 

“ I couldn’t ask papa for another cent, now he has 
spent so much for us, could I.? ” 

“It would not be right for you to ask for money 
to give away when he already makes you as great 
an allowance as he can afford.’’ 

‘ ‘ What ought I to do, mother .? ” 

“You must decide that for yourself, little girl. It 
would undoubtedly be a great thing for Helen to take 
lessons in wood-engraving, but that i^^no reason 
why you should deprive yourself of the new cloak, 
unless you choose to. Your old one is very shabby, 


THE CONWAYS. 




and too small, and it will not be easy for you to wear 
it another winter. If I were you I should not decide 
hastily. Consider the question carefully, and when 
you have reached a decision you will be better able 
to stick to it. You know what papa says of fickle- 
minded people.’’ 

“I know,” answered Grace, smiling; then she 
kissed her mother on both cheeks, as had been her 
custom since babyhood. ‘‘Good-night, mammy; 
you are the best and loveliest mother that ever 
lived.” 

Grace went directly to her closet and took down 
her old plush cloak. 

“ Ho ! ” exclaimed Zana, “ what have you there? 
Did it come from the Ark ? ” 

“Not quite so bad as that,” replied Grace. 

“Was it worn by our venerable great grana- 
mother ? ” 

“ It has been worn two winters by your humble 
servant. ” 

“I can’t imagine a servant humble enough to wear 
it another winter,” said Zana. “ Honestly, Grace, did 
you go anywhere last winter with that thing on ? ” 

“ I did, my dear. It does look shabby, doesn’t 
it ? ” Grace suppressed a sigh, and hung the cloak 
in the closet again, then prepared to go to bed. 
When she knelt to say the evening prayer that she 
had repeated ever since she was a baby, she added 
these words : “Dear Heavenly Father, help me not 
to care about the old cloak, for I feel as if I must 
give the money to Helen.” 

Before Grace went to sleep, that night, she had 


86 


THE COAnVAYS. 


planned just how her friend was to be induced to 
take the money. 

“Helen is so proud/’she thought, “that it will 
not he easy to make her mind ; but I’ll tell her that 
1 want to get money ahead for a bicycle, or some¬ 
thing that she has heard me wish for, aiul then I'll 
I'U'opose to lend it to lier and take her note. I'll tell 
her that I want to put it where I can't spend it. 
She'll object, of course, but I'll make her see that it 
is a duty she owes to her mother to tit herself, as 
raiddly as i^ossible, to supiH'U't herself. I do want 
her to be able to earn money in a way that no one 
can object to ; but I can't tell her that—that is, un¬ 
less every other argument fails." 

M'he ne.xt evening was spent by the girls in ad¬ 
dressing wrappers for the papers, and by the boys in 
pasting them around the first copies of the ‘ ‘ Oakwood 
'Franscript.” The papers were carried to the jmst- 
office late that evening, and although the girls were 
very tireil, they decided to accompany the boys, and 
all the way they talked of their paper. 'Fhey were 
possessed by a sort of anxious excitement that they 
found far from unpleasant. 'I'hey tried to imagine 
how the paper would be receive<.l, and really hoped 
that the editor of the “ Journal " would not think that 
they meant to injure him in the least ! Suppose he 
should try to kill their paper Kach one had sug¬ 
gestions to ofi'er as to the best course to pursue in 
such a case, and they felt that, at least, he would 
not iiml them unprepared. Should they succeed in 
rousit\gan interest in village improvements.^ That 
was the most important question ; for if they failed, 


THE CONWAYS. 


87 


everyone would laugh at them, especially after read¬ 
ing the leading editorial. They could think of noth¬ 
ing but their paper, and there was seldom a moment 
when less than two of them were talking at once. 
When Zana reached home again, she was quite hor¬ 
rified to discover that she had actually walked to the 
post-office and back in an old calico wrapper which 
belonged to Grace, and which, after much lecturing, 
she had been induced to wear while at work. There 
could be no stronger proof of Zana s interest in the 
new amusement. 

The next morning, Mr. Conway found a copy of 
the “ Oakwood Transcript” beside his plate, and 
four young people studied his face furtively as he 
looked over its pages. 

“Very good! ” he said, finally, “very good in¬ 
deed. I did not believe you could do so well at first. ” 

“The editors and publishers of the ‘ Oakwood 
Transcript’ are satisfied with your praise, most noble 
sir,” said Ned ; “ knowing, as we do, that you never 
praise what you do not think worthy. ” 

‘ ‘ Who wrote the leading editorial ? ” asked Mr. 
Conway, a moment later, a smile placing around the 
corners of his mouth. 

Grace looked uneasy. “ Why, papa ? ” she asked ; 
“is it awful ? ” 

“Not awful, but somewhat startling. Did you 
write it.? ” 

“That soul-stirring editorial was written by the 
syndicate,” announced Ned with a great flourish. 

“ By the syndicate ! ” repeated Zana. “I should 
like to know what you had to do about it.” 


88 


THE CONWAYS. 


Wrote the title, madam ! answered Ned, 
promptly. 

“You suggested it, and Grace wrote it.” 

“ I revised it. There is an artistic finish to the 
revision which would draw tears to the eyes of a 
Raphael. No careless hand could execute work like 
that. No inferior mind-” 

Ned was interrupted by a sudden pushing back of 
chairs, as three persons left their seats simulta¬ 
neously, looked at the editorial page over IMr. Con¬ 
way’s shoulder, and read this :— 

OUR INTRODUCTION ! ! ! AHEM ! 

“Theexclamation points call attention to the in¬ 
troduction,” explained Ned, coolly; “then comes 
the hand-shake, followed by the introductory cough ! 
I’ll bet that will take immensely.” 

“Ned, when did you do that.?” 

There was an iciness in Grace’s voice that warned 
her hearers of an approaching storm. 

“The last thing before going to press. I 
thought you might object if I told you of my inten¬ 
tion, for you do not have an artistic eye, you 
know.” 

“What right had you to touch it.? I thought I 
was editor of this paper. Father, does an editor 
have rights, or-” 

“That the manager is bound to respect when 
they interfere with his ideas of the fitness of things,” 
interrupted Ned, laughing. 

“It is no laughing matter, Ned Conway,” said 




THE CONWAYS. 


89 

Grace, indignantly. I would rather have given ten 
dollars than that my editorial should have gone in 
like that. Such an idiotic looking thing as it is ! 
Anyone with common sense would have known 
better than to do such a thing.” 

'^Softly, softly, my daughter,” cautioned Mrs. 
Conway. 

“I can’t help being provoked about it, mother. 
There my name is on the paper as editor, and look 
at that thing ! Just look at it, mother ! ” 

Taking the paper from her father, Grace held it 
under her mother’s eyes, assuming quite a tragical 
attitude. 

“It doesn’t look well, I must admit,” said Mrs. 
Conway, laughing a little in spite of her attempt to 
look serious. “Ned, what made you do it.? ” 

“Just for a joke, mother. I thought Grace would 
see the fun in it the first thing. ” 

“It’s a pretty poor joke to make one’s sister a 
laughing-stock for the whole village,” said Grace, 
angrily. “ I would cease joking if I couldn’t be a 
little more gentlemanly about it.” 

“I didn’t think about the whole village, mother,” 
said Ned, with sarcastic emphasis, “ or I suppose I 
shouldn’t have done it. It seems to me, however, 
that Grace is making a great deal of fuss over a very 
small affair.” 

As he spoke, he arose from his chair, asked his 
mother to excuse him, and left the table without 
having touclied his breakfast. The rest of the family 
ate theirs in silence. A darker cloud had fallen over 
[he sunshiny home than had been seen there for a 


90 


THE CONWAYS. 


long time, and all on account of the paper which 
was to have furnished only amusement. 

Mr. Conway hurried to his office immediately after 
breakfast, and Mrs. Conway went about her work 
with a grieved look on her face that made her chil¬ 
dren feel extremely uncomfortable. Ned and Grace 
avoided each other as much as possible, and had 
little to say to anyone else, and Rob and Zana spent 
the most of the forenoon together. 

“What a fuss they make over a little disagree¬ 
ment,” said Zana. 

“I should say so ! You and I might quarrel a 
week, and I doubt if father and mother would know 
anything about it, or care. ” • 

“I wish Ned and Grace would make up, don’t you, 
Rob } Somehow, quarrelling seems out of place in 
this house.” 

“It does produce an uncomfortable sensation.” 

“I presume if father and mother were more like 
Uncle Charles and Aunt Marie, you and I would be 
careful not to disagree so much.” 

“ Maybe. We haven’t had a spat worth mention¬ 
ing since we came here, I believe, and we never 
agreed so well befora ” 

Ned and Grace attended to their usual duties, that 
morning, with very sober faces. They were both 
heartily ashamed of themselves, and wanted to say 
so, but did not know how to do it without wounding 
their pride more, than they cared to. 

“Ned ought to speak first,” thought Grace, 
“ because he is most to blame. He had no right 
to play such a trick on me. If he would just 


THE CONWAYS. 


91 


hint that he is sorry, I would be glad to forgive 
him.” 

‘ ‘ When Grace gets ready to be good-natured 
again,” thought Ned, “she can say so. Tin not 
angry, and haven’t been any of the time ; but I don’t 
intend to get down on my knees and beg her to 
smile. ” 

The forenoon wore slowly away. Rob and Zana 
went for a walk, Ned was busy in the garden, and 
Grace and her mother were left alone in the sitting- 
room which they were putting to rights. They 
always worked together, whenever it was possible 
for them to do so, and had some of their nicest visits 
while thus engaged. Grace could not remember 
the time when she had not been allowed to help 
mother. One of her earliest recollections is of stand¬ 
ing on a chair drying the spoons and knives and 
forks while mother washed and wiped the rest of the 
dishes. To-day she remembers one day in particular. 
She was very busy with the spoons, and mother 
asked her what she thought about beginning, that 
afternoon, to can the raspberries. Grace thinks that 
her mother must always have talked to her as if she 
were grown up, but she is sure that she never did 
any thinking until that day. 

Mother seemed very serious, and the little girl was 
anxious to give an answer that would prove quite as 
helpful as seemed to be expected of her ; but what 
should she say.? In all her short life, she had never 
thought of the word “ can ” in that connection. She 
pondered over it so long, that mother finally asked 
her of what she was thinking.^ 


92 


THE CONWAYS. 


“ Mamma/’she said, ‘‘when I said ‘I can help 
you,’ you said, ‘can you ? ’ Did you can me then? ” 

Grace laughs, now, when she thinks of that scene; 
but she remembers that her mother did not hurt her 
baby dignity by laughing at her then, but explained 
as carefully as if her question had been of the great¬ 
est importance. 

“Mother has always been careful not to hurt my 
feelings,” she thought, “and sometimes she must 
have ached to laugh at me; yet I can hurt her 
without troubling myself even to be sorry.” 

She felt that her mother was looking at her, and 
turned away. She knew just what sort of expression 
she should see in those dark eyes, and did not care 
to meet it in her present mood. 

“I dusted that vase, Gracie,” said Mrs. Conway, 
finally ; “didn’t I do it well ? ” 

“I don’t know—why, yes, of course ! I wasn’t 
thinking about my work, mamma.” 

“ I have known that for the last ten minutes, dear.” 

Grace threw her dust-rag on the nearest chair, and 
buried her face on her mother’s shoulder. 

“You think I’m perfectly awful, don’t you, 
mother ? ” 

“No, dear; you know I couldn’t think that if I 
tried.” 

“Well, I am ! I know you are grieved when Ned 
and I quarrel, and I had no right to say what I did 
to him, especially before Rob and Zana.” 

“ I do not want you to feel sorry simply because 
I am grieved, Gracie. I thought you and Ned real¬ 
ized how greatly blessed you are in having each 


THE CONWAYS. 


93 


other to love, and that, since you cannot expect al¬ 
ways to be together, you ought to make the most of 
every minute. When you forget yourselves as you 
did this morning-’’ 

‘ ‘ It isn't because we don’t love each other, mamma ; 
I simply lost my temper, and you don’t know how 
ashamed I feel about it now.” 

“Yes, dear, I think I do. I quarrelled with my 
only brother, once, over as trifling a matter as that, 
and he went hunting with some friends before we 
made up. I was ashamed of myself before I had 
been alone five minutes. My dear brother shot him¬ 
self accidentally, that day, and was brought home 
dead. Grace, can you think how I felt then .? ” 

“Oh, mamma ! Oh, poor, poor mamma !” Grace 
raised a very white face from her mother’s shoul¬ 
der, and with her own handkerchief wiped the tears 
from her mother’s eyes. 

“Where is Ned?” she asked, suddenly. “I’m 
going to find him, this minute.” 

“I saw him out in the garden not long ago.” 

Ned, with a very gloomy countenance, was weed¬ 
ing the strawberry-bed, when he was startled by a 
sudden rush behind him, and before he could turn to 
see who was coming, Grace had thrown both arms 
around his neck. 

“Ned,” she sobbed, “please forgive me ! I was 
just as cross as I could be, and I’m awfully sorry.” 

“Don’t talk that way, Grade ; it makes me feel 
cheap. I have been most to blame, and too coward¬ 
ly to say so ; but you can’t think how mean I feel. 
What can I do to fix it—that page, you know ? ” 



94 


THE CONWAYS. 


‘‘It don’t need fixing ! ” Grace locked up and 
laughed through her tears. “It’s—it’s real funny, 
only—only I didn’t see-” 

“It isn’t funny, at all, but I thought it was going 
to be, or I never should have done it. I wonder if I 
couldn’t explain it in the next paper } There come 
Rob and Zana ! Let’s act as if nothing had hap¬ 
pened ! ” and Ned, who had a boyish dislike to a 
scene, took his arm from around his sister’s waist, and 
devoted himself to his work, while Grace feigned to 
assist him. They were too late, however, for Rob 
and Zana had seen, and were congratulating them¬ 
selves that the cloud had blown over, and the good 
times were to begin again. 

‘ ‘ Been kissing and making up like good children } ” 
asked Rob. 

“ Did you see us } ” said Grace. 

“ Wq caught sight of a very lover-like scene as we 
came up the walk,” replied Zana, “ and Rob chris¬ 
tened it ‘Reconciliation.’ Rob and I don’t do things 
that way .? ” 

“ Do you quarrel } ” asked Grace. 

“Quarrel! ” Rob laughed. “Why, cats and dogs 
are nowhere compared with us, are they, Zade ! But 
we get over it easier than you do. ” 

“I look sideways at Rob to see if he is feeling 
better,” interrupted Zana, laughing, “and after 
awhile, I catch him looking sideways at me; then 
we both laugh, and talk about something else as if 
nothing had happened.” 

“But don’t you feel dreadfully ashamed after¬ 
wards ? ” asked Grace. 



THE CONWAYS. 


95 


“ Ashamed ! Why should we ? Everybody quar¬ 
rels with those with whom they are obliged to live. 
Papa and mamma have a quarrel nearly every 
day. 

“Why, Zana Conway ! I can't believe it ! ” Grace 
looked at her cousin so seriously, that Zana was 
obliged to laugh. 

“You goosie! ” she exclaimed. “One would 
think I had told you of a murder. Their quarrelling 
doesn't amount to anything. They think just as 
much of each other.” 

“I think it is dreadful !” said Grace. “I believe 
I should cry my eyes out if papa and mamma should 
quarrel as Ned and I did this morning. I shall never 
get over feeling ashamed of myself, and I don’t 
see how Ned can forgive me so easily for talking 
so. ” 

“You ought not to forgive me at all,” replied 
Ned, straightening himself and piling the handful of 
weeds, which he had just pulled frorn the strawberry- 
bed, on his sister’s head. ‘ ‘ There is such a thing 
as going too far with one’s jokes, and in future I mean 
to try to think of the other party a little more. ” 

When Mr. Conway came home at noon, he no¬ 
ticed, at once, that the trouble of the morning had 
cleared away. 

“ Well, children,” he said, with a sly twinkle in 
his eyes, “ do you feel better ? ” 

“Very much, papa,” answered Grace, with a 
blush and smile. 

“Is Ned possessed of a decent amount of com¬ 
mon-sense now ? ” 


96 


THE CONWAYS. 


“ Please don’t, papa ! I think I was the one who 
must have been lacking in that respect. ” 

“Father, how can I manage to let the readers 
know that Grace is not to blame for that piece of 
work ? ” asked Ned. 

“Why did you not think of that in the first place, 
my son } ” 

“I didn’t have time.” 

“I would advise you to take time, in future. It 
is wiser never to play a practical joke until you have 
thought it out, putting yourself in your victim’s 
place.” 

“ Ned wouldn’t have been so silly as I was, papa. 
He never gets angry when a joke is played on him, 
and I ought to have had more sense.” 

“This little misunderstanding convinces me that 
the editor-in-chief of the ‘ Oakwood Transcript ’ 
should have a business interview with the manager,” 
said Mr. Conway. “There should be a written 
agreement as to the rights and duties of each.” 

“ He thinks we are not to be trusted,” said Ned, 
with a nod to Grace. 

“The present arrangement is not business-like,” 
replied Mr. Conway, “and would be sure to bring 
trouble in some way, sooner or later. Now let us 
have that editorial, Ned. I didn't have time to read 
it this morning, and haven’t time now.” 

“ It will give me pleasure to read it,” said Ned, a 
merry light darting into his eyes. Grace’s cheeks 
suddenly became very rosy, as they always did 
when anything which she had written was to be 


THE CONWAYS. 


97 

read aloud, and she regarded her plate with unusual 
attention. 

“ Dear readers,” read Ned, in a caressing tone of 

voice, ‘ ‘ dear little readers^-” 

“That isn’t there, papa,” interrupted Grace. 

“ That’s so ; it isn’t! ” exclaimed Ned, examining 
the page closely. “I repeated. I’ll begin again. 

Dee-ah-weadahs, in intwoduthing-” 

“Ned, you’re mean!” said Zana. “Give the 
paper to me ; I’ll read it. ” 

“ No, you won’t,” replied Ned, “unless you pay 
me for the privilege. If there is one thing which I 
love more than everything else it is reading intro¬ 
ductory editorials. I must begin again. Dear-r-r 
r-r-reader-r-rs ! ” 

Grace sprang from her seat, and covered Ned’s 
mouth with one hand, while she firmly held his 
nose with the other. 

“Take the paper away from him, Zana,” she said. 
“I’ll not let him get a breath until he gives it up ! ” 
“What will you pay.?” asked Ned, in muffled 
tones, moving his head from side to side in an at¬ 
tempt to free himself, and holding the paper with 
both hands between his knees. 

“ Give it to me, and you may have my piece of 
pie,” promised Zana, and peace was established at 
once. 

“Dear readers,” began Zana, “in introducing to 
you the first copy of the ‘ Oakwood Transcript,’ we 
feel that no apology for its presence before you 

should be made, since it-” 

“Uncle,” interrupted Rob, “ought Grace to have 

7 





98 


THE CONWAYS. 


used the word * feel' in that place ? I told her that 
she should have said ‘think/ She shouldn’t say 
‘ feel ’ unless she refers to touch in some way, should 
she ? ” 

‘ ‘ In this place ‘ feel ’ is respectable usage, isn’t it, 
papa ? Rob is foolishly critical; don’t you think 
so ? ” 

“Don’t imagine that you are going to involve me 
in one of your disputes,” replied Mr. Conway, laugh¬ 
ing. “I refuse to be catechized, and I’ll not be 
judge.” 

“ But, uncle, don’t you see-” began Rob. 

‘ ‘ Rob, ” interrupted Grace, ‘ ‘ if Zana were sick you 
would say she feels badly, wouldn’t you } ” 

“ No, indeed ! I should say Zana ‘ thinks’ she is 
sick.” 

“ Wouldn’t you feel sorry for her } ” 

“ No ; I might be sorry, though.” 

“Do you never feel good or bad about any¬ 
thing ? ” 

“ Never, madam ! I’m rejoiced or grieved, 
whichever mental emotion may be in order ! ” 

“The editorial!” called Mr. Conway. “Let us 
have that, if you please. Your dispute can be set¬ 
tled quite as well some other time. ” 

“Will you see that I am not interrupted again, 
uncle .? ” asked Zana. 

“I will try to keep order,” he replied, taking up the 
carving knife, and assuming an expression of sever¬ 
ity ; then Zana began reading again : 

“Dear readers, in introducing to you the first 
copy of the ‘ Oakwood Transcript,’ we feel that no 



THE CONWAYS. 


99 


apology for its presence before you should be made, 
since it comes with an object in view which no one 
can think unworthy attention. Its aim is to appeal 
particularly to the young people ofOakwood, whom 
it wishes to interest in village improvements. No 
one can deny that it is a subject which should have 
received earnest attention long, long ago.” 

“Long, long ago, long ago !” wailed Ned, in a 
dreamy falsetto, and Mr. Conway brandished the 
carving-knife so fiercely that Ned hid his head on his 
mother s shoulder. 

“The married inhabitants of the village,” contin¬ 
ued Zana, “ are all too absorbed in their own affairs 
to give the subject the attention which it deserves, 
and if Oakwood is ever to have the needed improve¬ 
ments, it must look to its young people for them.” 

“The inhabitants of Oakwood are divided into two 
classes,” interrupted Rob; “married people and 
young people. Old maids and old bachelors-” 

Grace helped herself to Rob’s pie, and the rest of 
the sentence was lost in his effort to gain posses¬ 
sion of it again without making too much noise. 

“If,” continued Zana, “ the ‘ Oakwood Transcript’ 
can arouse an interest in village improvements which 
will, at least, give us a start on the road which every 
enterprising village must travel, it will feel that it 
has not been quite a failure. All it asks, dear reader, 
is your hearty endorsement and active support.” 

“ Very modest, certainly,” said Mr. Conway, lay¬ 
ing down the carving-knife, as Zana finished read¬ 
ing. 

“ Is it horrid, papa ? ” Grace looked troubled. 



lOO 


THE COXWA YS. 


“ Horrid ! I should say not I have read edito¬ 
rials not nearly so good in the ‘Journal.'” 

“Oh, father!” expostulated ^Irs. Conway, “you 
shouldn't flatter the child. ” 

“ Xo flatter)’' about it ” protested Mr. Conway. 
“ Gracie understands that I do not refer to the usual 
leading editorial in the ‘ Journal.' This is her first at¬ 
tempt and I am proud of it: but I shall not be proud 
of her unless she does very much better before 
long.” 

“I'll try, papa,” said Grace, softly. 

“Don't yet uncle,” pleaded Zana. “I have 
something else to read to you.” 

“Is it very long ? ” 

“ Xot very. I'll read fast Rob wrote it” 

“Is that so.^ Well, then, I must hear it, mustn't 
I.?” 

‘ ‘ Take notice, ” began Zana. ‘ ‘ See, uncle, ” show¬ 
ing him the paper, “ those two words are printed in 
immense capitals to attract attention. Take notice : 
On the evening of the riventy-fifth of September, a 
meeting will be held in the editorial office of the ‘ Oak- 
wood Transcript,' Conway House, for the purpose of 
organizing a society devoted to the interests of village 
improvements. Officers will be elected, ways and 
means discussed, and all suggestions from interested 
parties given due consideration. All are cordially 
invited to be present The subscription price of the 
‘Oakwood Transcript' is fifty cents a year. Stamps 
accepted. Old clothes not taken in exchange. Bring 
your subscription fee with you.” 

“What’s that.^ ” shouted Rob, springing from his 


THE CONWAYS. 


lOI 


chair and looking^ over Zana's shoulder. ** Ned, you 
rascal ! when did you add that ” 

** Just before going to press, ” answered Ned, look¬ 
ing as if he did not know whether to laugh or cry. 
* ‘ I thought it would be a fine opportunity to get in 
something business-like. I'm sorry, though, Rob.” 

‘‘Well, you needn't be,” replied Rob, taking the 
paper and tiuming to another page. “Just let your 
eye rest on that! ” 

Ned obeyed and read : “ Brown, the furniture 
man, has the finest bedbugs in the city.” “Who in 
time-he began. 

“ I did, Ned,” confessedRob, “ and I have felt sick 
over it all the morning. It seemed as if fifty pounds 
had been lifted from my shoulders when I found that 
you had played the same trick on me. ” 

“Brown will be hopping mad,” said Ned, “and 
he was my best advertiser.” 

Ned looked at the advertisement again, then burst 
into a peal of laughter so infectious that he was 
instantly joined by the whole family. 

“ I know now just how you felt, Grace,” he said 
at last, wiping the tears from his eyes. 

“It is funnier to play a joke on another, than to 
have one played on yourself, isn’t it, my son ? ” 
asked 'SIt. Conway. 

“ It is more comfortable.” replied Ned, but noth¬ 
ing could look funnier than that advertisement I 
suspect that I'll have to apologize to ^Ir. Brown for 
a week, and give him one or two free ads. besides, 
before he wiU have anything more to do with me.” 

“Really, children,” said Mrs. Conway, “I think 



102 


THE CONWAYS. 


you would better resolve not to use your paper again 
as a medium for practical joking. If you wish it to 
be influential it must not seem trifling.” 

“We will make rules this afternoon, mother, and 
let you see them before we sign them,” promised 
Grace. 


THE CONWAYS. 


103 


CHAPTER VIL 

It was the evening- of the twenty-fifth of Septem¬ 
ber, and a merry party of young people were gathered 
in the editorial office of the “ Oakwood Transcript.” 
In spite of his protestations, Rob was made chair¬ 
man. 

‘‘ I never was chairman in my life,” he said, “and 
I never attended a meeting where there was a chaip 
man ; at least, such an individual was never pointed 
out to me.” 

“You can never learn younger,” replied Ned. 
“Go ahead, Rob ; Til warrant that you’ll get through 
all right.” 

“ We’re not critical, ” called a voice from the crowd. 
“I presume there isn’t a fellow here who knows 
more than you do about it, unless it is Grace.” 

There was a general laugh at this, in which Grace 
joined heartily. She was accustomed to being 
spoken of as a “nice fellow,” by her boy friends, 
and did not mind it in the least, even though she 
knew that it shocked Zana. 

“It makes you seem so very masculine,” Zana 
had said to her only the day before, “ and you must 
be more to blame than the boys. I don’t believe 


104 


THE CONWAYS. 


they would speak of you as a good fellow unless 
your manner invited such rudeness.” 

“ Is it rude?” asked Grace, calmly. ‘‘It doesn’t 
seem so to me. My boy friends speak to me and of 
me as they do of one another.” 

“Of course they do, and it is perfectly awful. 
You are a young lady, Grace, not a child.” 

“ What of it ? ” 

“You are old enough to begin to accept attentions 
from young gentlemen, and they never care for girls 
to whom they are not obliged to be polite.” 

“Oh, sugar! Zana, you make me sick. I’m only 
sixteen years old, and if I’ve got to adopt senti¬ 
mental airs, and be waited upon as if I didn’t have 
sense enough to take care of myself, and lose my 
freedom, and—and be perfectly horrid, Td like to 
know the reason why I I am not a young lady. I 
don’t want to be one, and I won’t be just as long as 
I can help it, and I hope I’ll be called a good fellow 
for at least ten years yet. ” 

“You wouldn’t if you knew what other folks think 
about such things.” 

“ I don’t care what other folks think if mother is 
satisfied; and if she were not, you may be sure I 
should have known it long before this. She likes 
to have me exert a good influence over ifiy boy 
friends. ” 

“A good influence!” Zana laughed. “As if 
;'our allowing them to call you a fine fellow helped 
' ) 1 to exert a good influence.” 

“Well, it does. They tell me everything just as 
if I were a boy, and ask my advice about things, 


THE CONWAYS, 


105 

and I know that I have influenced them for good 
ever so many times when they were tempted to be 
foolish.” 

Grace had a nature much too healthy to be dis¬ 
turbed by Zana’s arguments on that subject. There 
was nothing silly or affected about her, and her 
greatest worry was caused by the knowledge that 
some day she would be so old that even her own 
family could no longer consider her entitled to the 
privileges of a little girl, which, in her opinion, were 
far more to be desired than those granted the young 
ladies of her acquaintance. 

On this evening she looked at Zana with a smile 
of amusement when she heard herself classed among 
the “other fellows,” and replied that she was de¬ 
lighted to be given credit for knowing something, 
even if, as in the present instance, it was on a sub¬ 
ject of which she knew absolutely nothing. 

“Well,” said Rob, with the air of a martyr, “ if I 
must, I must.” 

He went to the little table which had been pre¬ 
pared for the chairman, and lifted his chair over his 
head so suddenly and fiercely that some of the 
girls dodged as if they expected him to hurl it at 
them. 

“ Come to order,” he shouted, “ormeet me in the 
woodshed ! ” 

“Please, Rob, be good,” began Zana. 

“Silence ! ” commanded Rob, threatening her with 
the chair. “No talking allowed here. Now, who 
speaks first } ” 

No one answered. The young people of Oak wood 


io6 THE CONWAYS. 

had never had experience with such a chairman as 
Rob, and were taken so completely by surprise that 
for a moment they were speechless. Rob’s most 
intimate friends said that he was born to be an actor; 
however that may be, he certainly succeeded, on 
this occasion, in acting more like a madman than a 
boy of sound sense. Even Ned could think of noth¬ 
ing to say ; but a glance into his face would have 
been enough to convince anyone that he was 
thoroughly enjoying Rob’s acting. Grace was the 
first to recover her presence of mind. 

“It is getting late, Rob,” she began. 

“Silence ! ” interrupted Rob, in a voice that made 
the girls clap their hands over their ears, and brought 
Mr. and Mrs; Conway to the door. “Am I chair¬ 
man of this meeting,” he continued, oratorically, 
“or am I not.? If I am chairman, then, by the chairs 
of my forefathers, I will be obeyed ! When I com¬ 
mand silence, silence there shall be, yea, even unto 
death ; and he who dares to disobey me shall meet 
me in the arena, and with his head and shoulders 
jammed between the legs of a child’s high-chair, 
shall give me answer why. Dost think that I will 
tamely submit to being an object of your insolent 
disobedience ? I! the chairman of this-” 

Rob was interrupted by a merry laugh, and turn¬ 
ing, he saw Mr. and Mrs. Conway standing in the 
doorway. He blushed with confusion, for he had 
not known they were there, and he would have pre¬ 
ferred not to have had them hear his first effort at 
speech-making. The young people were delighted 
over his discomfort and joined in a very boisterous 



THE CONWAYS. 


107 

shout of joy. By the time they became quieter, Rob 
had recovered his self-possession. 

“That was a telling speech, Rob,” said his uncle, 
“but what was it about.?” 

‘ ‘ They insisted on making me chairman of this 
meeting,” replied Rob, “ even after I had told them 
that I knew nothing of the duties required of such 
a personage. I was doing my best to fill the posi¬ 
tion ! Arguing that a chairman must be a man with 
a chair-” 

“Oh! Oh-h-h 1 ” groaned the audience in con¬ 
cert ; and so many pretended to be in a fainting 
condition that Rob decided not to finish his explana¬ 
tion. 

“Don’t you mean to try to do better than that, 
Rob } ” asked Helen. 

“ How can I when I don’t know any better.? ” he 
replied with the unconcern of one who felt sure of 
victory. Rob was convinced that by maintaining 
his position, he should be relieved of the duties 
assigned him. 

“Then, Grace, you must take the place,” declared 
Helen. 

“I guess Rob will behave; won’t you, Rob?” 
pleaded Grace. 

“My dear cousin, I am behaving beautifully,” 
replied Rob. 

“ He will manage to make us waste the entire 
evening,” said Helen, “and we have work to do.” 

“ Let Ned be chairman,” suggested Grace. 

“ He will be no better, now that Rob has supplied 
him with a mischievous idea,” replied Helen, in a 



io8 


THE CONWAYS. 


tone of great conviction, and so it was decided that 
Grace must be chairman—a position which she 
always filled most acceptably. 

We have no space for an account of the proceed¬ 
ings, for this first meeting of the “Village Improve¬ 
ment Association,'’ as they called themselves, lasted 
nearly three hours, and all the members became so 
enthusiastic that a great deal was said during that 
time. 

As soon as the members of the new society had 
taken their departure, the four young Conways and 
Helen hastened into the sitting-room where Mr. and 
Mrs. Conway awaited them. 

“ Most honored parents,” exclaimed Ned, “ allow 
me to congratulate you ! ” 

“What for.?” asked Mrs. Conway. 

“For having four such remarkable relatives, to be 
sure. We are successes, madam, gigantic suc¬ 
cesses ! and our most beautiful and accomplished 
neighbor and fellow-citizen, ” pointing to Helen, “is 
—is another ! ” 

As he spoke, he lifted his mother from her chair, 
and coolly appropriated it. 

“Why, Ned!” she exclaimed, “give me my 
chair. ” 

“ I can’t, mother ; I want it myself. Here,” draw¬ 
ing her to a seat on his knee, “ I suppose I can hold 
you, since you seem determined to make a great 
fuss over a trifle ; but it is pretty hard on a fellow to 
be obliged to hold such a great, overgrown mother 
when he is all tired out.” 

“Well,” she said, making herself comfortable on 


THE CONWAYS. 


109 

her son’s lap, “ tell us what you did to-night. Can’t 
you see how impatient your father is to hear the 
details ? ” 

‘‘To begin, five of the boys have promised to use 
their influence in securing advertising for our paper.” 

“Ned can think of nothing but advertising,” said 
Grace. “ Why didn’t you mention the park, Ned? 
Papa, we have resolved to try to secure ten acres of 
ground around the Springs for a public park ; what 
do you think of that ? ” 

“A very good idea,” said Mr. Conway, approv¬ 
ingly. “Land is cheap, now, as cheap as it ever 
will be, at least, and Oakwood ought certainly to 
have a park. But where is the money to come from ? 
The ‘ Oakwood Transcript’ ? ” 

“ No, sir,” said Ned, “ that is a private enterprise. 
If we make anything out of it, so much the better 
for us; if we lose, no one else will suffer. The 
V. I. A.-” 

“ The what ? ” interrupted Mr. Conway. 

“The V. I. A.—Village Improvement Associa¬ 
tion,” Mr. Conway nodded, “realize that we do 
something of a favor in publishing a paper devoted 
to the work of the society.” 

“They must have been made of stone not to 
realize it,” said Rob, laughing. “Uncle, you ought 
to have heard Ned convince them that they were 
under lasting obligations to the ‘ Oakwood Transcript. ’ 
It was brilliant, sir; positively brilliant ! ” clapping 
Ned on the shoulder. 

■“ It was business,” answered Ned. “At the con¬ 
clusion of my oration I took in five dollars, which 



I lO 


THE CONWAYS, 


means ten paid subscriptions, and fifteen promised 
to subscribe within a week/' 

''Where is the money to come from with which 
you mean to buy the park, if not from the paper ? 
queried Mr. Conway. 

"We have a number of plans for raising it," re¬ 
plied Grace. "We are going to have a series of six 
socials, the first to take place week after next, to 
which everybody will be invited. We shall try to 
secure the town hall for the purpose. ” 

"What kind of a social do you have next 
week.? ” 

"We are not going to tell that,” said Hejen. 
"We think it will draw better if it is a complete 
surprise. ” 

"We must give it a big puff in our next paper,” 
said Ned, "and see if we can’t get everybody 
excited. ” 

" I almost wish we had kept still about it until 
after the Raleigh girls had given their hop,” said 
Zana. 

"What is that } ” asked Mrs. Conway. 

"Why, Mamie Raleigh’s birthday comes next 
week, and she intended to have a party, and I had 
about persuaded her to let us dance in the dining¬ 
room,” explained Zana. 

" And is she going to do so }" 

"I think not, now. She said to-night that she 
believed she should give up having a party and 
devote all her time to helping get up the social. ” 

Mr. and Mrs. Conway exchanged glances, but 
made no comment. 


THE CONWAYS, 


in 


That is the worst thing about this new business,” 
complained Zana; “we have no time for anything 
else.” 

“What else do we wantasked Ned. 

“Why, some sort of amusement; we can’t work 
all the time. ” 

“You told me last night,” said Rob, “that you 
have had more fun since coming here than you have 
had in all your life before.” 

“ So I have,” confessed Zana ; “but I am afraid 
this work will not be as amusing as it is now very 
long. It will seem to be more work than play, and 
we shall have no time for anything else, and then 
what } ” 

“ That is Zana all over ! ” exclaimed Rob. “ I’ve 
known her to become completely fagged out worry¬ 
ing because she was afraid she might be very tired 
some time next week ! Once I found her crying, 
and when I asked her what the trouble was, she 
said, ‘ Oh, Rob, I am so disappointed ! Boo-hoo ! 
boo-hoo-hoo ! That party at Mrs. Granville’s, next 
month, wasn’t half as much fun as I thought it 
would be ! ’ ” 

‘ ‘ Rob Conway ! what a stupid fib, ” exclaimed Zana, 
petulantly. It was hard for her to submit, grace¬ 
fully, to the good-natured ridicule which every 
member of the Conway family might expect at any 
moment, although she enjoyed heaping it upon the 
others. 

“You see,” explained Rob, “ she had worried so 
much for fear she wasn’t going to enjoy herself, 
that she finally became sure of it, and then imagined 


II2 


THE CONWAYS. 


it in all its dreary detail until she forgot that it had 
not yet taken place. 

“Laugh, girls!"' exclaimed Helen, setting the 
example, “that was a story to be laughed at ; didn't 
you know it" 

“Excuse us, Rob,” said Grace, and she, too, went 
off into peals of laughter, in which Zana joined with 
the greatest satisfaction. 

“Dear me!” exclaimed Helen, when the girls 
could not even pretend to laugh longer, “how late 
it is ! I must hurry home.'' 

“You’ll have to go alone, to-night,” said Ned. 
“I’m holding mother.” 

“Why, Ned!” said Mrs. Conway, struggling to 
get up, “ aren’t you ashamed of yourself! ” 

“You ought to be ashamed to insist on sitting 
here,” he answered, holding her so she could not 
move, “when you know I’m dying to walk home in 
the rain with Helen.” 

‘ ‘ Miss Helen, may I walk home with you ? ” asked 
Rob. 

“I should much prefer you to Ned,” answered 
Helen, and they left the room together, after Helen 
had said good-night to all but Ned, whom she did not 
notice at all. 

In the next issue of the “Oakland Transcript,” an 
entire page was filled with an announcement of the 
entertainment to be given by the members of the 
V. I. A. to raise money for the purchase of ground 
for the park. 

Ned arranged the page, with Helen’s help, and 
declared, when it was finished, that if there was any- 


THE CONWAYS. 


I13 

one who took the paper and failed to read that page, 
it would be because he was blind or an idiot. The 
words, “ Come to the entertainment,” appeared in 
capitals, extended across the top of the page; and 
next, in the smallest letters the office afforded, was 
the couplet, 

“ Bring twenty-five cents admission fee 
And twenty-five more for whatever may be I ” 

Then appeared the following remarkable produc¬ 
tion from Ned’s pen : 

“We wish we might tell the readers all the de¬ 
tails of the wonderful surprise in store for them, or 
rather those among them who attend this entertain¬ 
ment. We feel that it is not fair to spring so much 
mirth and first-class unadulterated happiness on you 
without warning, but we are bound by a solemn 
promise and several hundred threats to say nothing. 
Wear your stoutest clothes, and sew all your but¬ 
tons on with linen thread so that the strongest par¬ 
oxysms of laughter may be indulged in without fear 
of the consequences.” 

Across the lower part of the page was another 
sentence in capitals: “Come, and bring your 
friends! ” followed by this business-like reminder : 
“Remember this : the sooner we have raised money 
for the park, the sooner we shall be ready to attend 
to iffie streets of our city. ” 

The older people of the city all seemed disposed 
to be of assistance. Mr. Conway had a talk with 
the owner of the property wanted for the park, who 
agreed to take less than he had been offering it for, 

a 


114 


THE CONWAYS. 


provided the first payment of two hundred dollars 
could be raised within six weeks. 

The Association numbered twenty members, each 
of whom had paid one dollar membership fee ; but 
several more young people had signified their inten¬ 
tion of joining as soon as they could raise the dol¬ 
lar. 

A special meeting of the members of the Associa¬ 
tion was called to arrange some detail of the enter¬ 
tainment, and Ned told them what success his father 
had had in their behalf. 

“ We have got to raise a sum equal to ten dollars 
apiece in six weeks’ time,” he said, “ or lose the best 
opportunity we shall ever have of securing that prop¬ 
erty. Now, what had we better do about it } ” 

“It looks like a pretty big undertaking,” said 
James Raleigh, ruefully. “I believe we would 
better give it up, and begin on something easier.” 

“Oh, we can’t give up the park,” exclaimed Grace. 
“Someone else will buy that property if we don’t, 
and cut all the trees down, just as likely as not.” 

“There are other pretty places in the world,” 
replied James. 

“ Suppose we spend our energy in putting a drink¬ 
ing fountain down in the square,” suggested Will 
Bradley; “it will cost less, and we shall not be in 
so much danger of making a failure of our first 
venture. ” 

“ If we make up our minds that we will raise the 
money for the park, and go to work in earnest, we 
can do it,” said Ned, firmly, and Grace threw him a 
glance full of gratitude, 


THE CONWAYS. 


IIS 

“ Everyone can’t will a thing- to come out just as 
he wants it to, as you do, Ned,” said Zana. 

‘ ‘ Of course not, if they flop over like a limp rag 
and say : ‘ I want to succeed, but I know I won’t, 
and there hain’t no use a-tryin ! ’ ” 

Ned looked very weak and comical as he delivered 
this speech, and Zana felt obliged to fan him with 
her hat, which brushed his nose quite unpleasantly, 

because it is so large ! ” she explained, with a most 
innocent expression. 

“I read a little story when I was young,” said 
Rob, rising to his feet, and putting on some goggles 
which he happened to have in his pocket, then look¬ 
ing at the members of the Association in a very 
grandfatherly way. I will tell it to you, children, 
if you will keep still. It had a great influence over 
all my boyhood days, and did much to make of me 
the noble specimen of manhood whom you all love 
and delight to honor.” 

He smiled as he finished this sentence, crossed 
his hands over his stomach, and gazed pensively 
into space. The smile grew broader and broader, un¬ 
til his mouth seemed to stretch from ear to ear, and 
every vestige of expression left his face. There 
was no one who could look more like a wooden man 
than Rob could when he wished to, and those who 
saw him were usually convulsed with laughter. 
They certainly were in this instance. 

“ Don’t be so silly, Rob,” said Zana, wiping the 
tears from her eyes, and Rob started as if her voice 
had aroused him from a pleasant reverie. 

“Yes,” he said, still grinning, “I will tell it to 


THE CONWAYS. 


116 

you. There were two boys, each of whom had a 
father. Each father had a potato field, and each 
potato field was covered with several billions of po¬ 
tato bugs. Each father told his son that the bugs 
must be gathered and put to their last long sleep ere 
the golden sun went to rest among his cushions 
of pink and gold and pale green-blue. Each boy 
sadly wended forth, with a slow and melancholy 
wend. Oh, my hearers, it makes my old heart sad 
to think of that dismal wending ! ” 

“Rob, you shall not be so silly!” exclaimed 
Grace, but he paid no attention, except to smile with 
greater expansiveness as he regarded her over his 
spectacles. 

‘ ‘ The boys arrived at their respective potato fields, ” 
he continued, in a melancholy drawl, “and being 
good boys, both knelt and prayed for help. When 
his prayer was ended, boy number one arose and 
seated himself under a tree, and waited patiently 
for the assistance for which he had prayed. But 
boy number two—little girl,” pointing to Zana, and 
speaking with such sudden energy that he made her 
jump, “can you tell me what boy number two 
did.? Can’t, eh? Why can’t you? Have you been 
dreaming ? Are you awake now ? Where is your 
tongue ? Why do you laugh ? Do you think this 
is a laughing-school ? Listen, children I I am go¬ 
ing to tell you what boy number two did. Jump¬ 
ing up, he threw off his coat and said, ‘ If you kill 
any more of them bugs than I do. Lord, you’ve got 
to git to work pretty quick I ’ ” 


THE CONWAYS. 


117 

“ Oh, Rob, that’s wicked ! ” exclaimed Grace, look¬ 
ing very grave. 

‘ ‘ Wicked ! ’’ repeated Rob, ‘ ‘ I’d like to know why ? 
Everyone else seems to see the point. ” Rob pointed 
as he spoke to the members of the Association who 
were all in convulsions of laughter over his story. 
He had personated so well a certain school-director 
whom they all knew, but whom Rob had never seen, 
that it quite overcame them. 

“ Well, I don’t see anything to laugh at, if the rest 
do,” replied Grace, with heightened color. “Such 
stories may not be exactly wicked, but they sound 
flippant, and I don’t like them.” 

“If you don’t like them,” answered Rob, sarcas¬ 
tically, ‘ ‘ that is reason enough for suppressing them. 
It breaks my heart to think that I told a story which 
you don’t like.” 

Grace’s eyes filled with tears, but before she could 
reply Ned changed the subject by calling the meet¬ 
ing to order, and thus diverted the attention of the 
others from the disputants. Then he proceeded to 
give them his reasons for thinking that the Associa¬ 
tion would better try to secure the property for the 
park, and soon succeeded in convincing them that 
there was really nothing else that they so much 
wanted to do. Ned was so full of energy and enthu¬ 
siasm that he was always a leader among his com¬ 
panions, without meaning to be. 

“We must have an entertainment each week,” he 
said, “and we must make each so interesting that 
everybody will want to come to the next one. We 
can do it, if we work together with a will, I am sure. 


ii8 


THE CONWAYS. 


We must clear thirty-five dollars at each entertain¬ 
ment, in order to make up the two hundred dollars, 
but what of that? Think how many people there 
are in Oak wood to give us twenty-five cents admis¬ 
sion fee ! What do you say, comrades, is it a go ? 

‘‘Go with a big G,” exclaimed Roger Windom. 

“Put it to vote,” called a voice from the crowd. 

A Amte was taken, and Ned’s plan was carried 
without a dissenting voice. 

“ Now,” said Grace, “let us hear what has been 
done about our first entertainment.” 

“We have succeeded in getting the use of the hall 
free of charge,” said Roger, who was one of the 
committee on ways and means. 

“ The refreshments are not to cost us anything,” 
added one of the girls. “ Everyone I asked seemed 
perfectly willing to contribute. The fathers and 
mothers of Oakwood act very much as if they were 
glad to have us take up something in earnest.” 

Then followed a great deal of conversation carried 
on in whispers, with occasional exclamations in 
louder tones, “Won’t that be fun!” “.That will 
bring in the dimes!” “There’s no doubt that we 
will have an immense crowd next time. Everyone 
will want to come when they hear what fun we 
have ! ” 

When the V. I. A. adjourned that night, there was 
not a member who did not feel confident that the 
first payment on the park would be ready in six 
weeks. 

“Come on, Rob,” said Grace ; “let’s you and I 
walk home with Helen to-night.” 


THE CONWAYS. 


I19 

Rob opened his mouth to refuse. He was angry 
with his cousin for having reproved him so publicly, 
and meant to make her feel it; but Helen was look¬ 
ing towards him, and he was too gentlemanly to 
hurt another in his desire to punish his cousin. He 
turned at once, asked Ned to look out for Zana, and 
offered his arm to Helen, but took no notice of 
Grace. 

“Aren’t you coming, too.?’’asked Helen, seeing 
Grace hesitate. 

“To be sure I am,” she answered, trying to 
speak as if she had not noticed Rob’s manner, and 
quietly took Helen’s other arm. “You are going to 
be escorted home in great style to-night, Helen,” 
she said, gayly. “Every want of yours shall be 
promptly attended to.” 

“So.? Thanks. I want a hundred dollars, if you 
please,” replied Helen. 

“Certainly, my dear. Just step into the bank, to¬ 
morrow, and tell the cashier that I said he was to 
give you what you want. ” 

The girls kept up a brisk conversation all the way, 
and often appealed to Rob, who talked to Helen as if 
he enjoyed it, but ignored Grace as much as possible. 
When he could not avoid answering her, he took 
care to have his reply as sarcastic as he could make 
it, and he was not deficient in his power of sarcasm. 

“The mean, hateful, old thing !” thought Helen, 
who was always indignant when Grace was hurt ; 
but she was too diplomatic to interfere in any way, 
and tried her best to introduce some subject so inter¬ 
esting that it would cause Rob to forget his griev- 


120 


THE CONWAYS. 


ance. She guessed that Grace was sorry she had 
spoken so quickly, and had planned the walk home 
with Rob as a sort of peace-offering. 

“ Poor Gracie ! she said, as she bade the cousins 
good-night, and watched them walking down the 
street together, ‘‘she will be frozen stiff by the time 
she gets home, if she goes all the way with that 
icicle. ” 

“Rob,” said Grace, when they had closed Helen's 
gate behind them, “I’m sorry.” 

“ For what.? ” asked Rob, with an air of surprise. 

“ThatI spoke to you as I did, to-night, before the 
V. I. A.,” she answered, bravely. 

“Oh, don’t give yourself any uneasiness on that 
account ! I assure you I enjoyed it.” 

“ Rob, please don’t talk tha*t way ; it makes it so 
hard for me to explain.” 

“I beg your pardon; I had forgotten that this 
is an instance where you, only, should be con¬ 
sidered. ” 

“What can Isay to you.? Why will you talk 
so .? ” 

“ Have I blundered again .? Please permit me to 
be silent the rest of the way home. It will be 
safer. ” 

“ Rob, you may think you are a gentleman to talk 
to me in this way; but let me tell you that you are 
not. ” 

“That is no news from your lips, I believe.” 

“You may call it gentlemanly to meet me with 
sarcasm, when you know I wish to apologize for 
having unintentionally hurt you; but I do not. 


THE CONWAYS. 


I 2 I 


I should despise Ned if I thought he would treat 
anyone as you treat me to-night/' 

“Don't think it, then ; Ned could never hold up 
his head again, if you should despise him for half 
a minute." 

Grace laughed, a little nervously. 

“I haven’t made matters any better by that last 
remark, have I," she said. 

There was no reply, and she continued, some¬ 
what hastily : 

“In spite of your sarcasm, I am going to say 
what I started to. I don't like stories which seem to 
make light of sacred things, and I can't help saying 
so ; but I think I had no right to say so to you 
before others, especially in the way I did say it. I 
am very sorry, Rob, and I don't blame you at all 
for being hurt about it." 

Grace hesitated, not knowing whether to say more 
or not. She hoped he would tell her that she was 
forgiven, and then things could go on as before ; 
but he acted as if he had not heard her. He was 
whistling softly, and when they reached the door, 
he opened it for her, then passed upstairs without 
even bidding her good-night, or pausing, for a 
second, in his music. 

Grace stopped at her mother’s door, thinking to go 
and talk this new trouble with the one who always 
found some wmy for her out of every difficulty; but 
the light was out, and Grace knew that her mother 
was in bed, and ought not to be disturbed. 

“Oh dear ! " she thought, “ why must I always 
blunder? I do wish my tongue would keep still 


122 


THE CONWAYS. 


when it ought to. I am always doing more harm 
than good in the world. ” 

She was nearly ready for bed when she was startled 
by a light tapping on her door. 

“Who is there.?” she asked softly, so as not to 
disturb Zana, who was asleep. 

“Come here a minute, won’t you, Grace.?” asked 
Rob. 

Hastily donning a wrapper, she went into the hall, 
wondering what could be the trouble. Was Ned 
sick, or what was it that made Rob’s voice tremble 
so? 

“What is the matter, Rob ? ” she asked, alarmed 
at his pale face, and the serious look in his dark eyes.. 
“Is Ned-” 

“Ned is all right.” There was a little pause; 
then he went on hastily : 

“Grace, I’m a perfect brute! I ought to be 
thrashed for acting as I did to-night. I—I—ahem I 
you didn’t say anything so very bad. Good-night 1 ” 

He kissed Grace on the forehead, and before she 
could speak, disappeared into his own room. 

“I wonder,” thought Grace, with a happy little 
laugh, “ what Rob is sorry for ; telling the story, or 
being sarcastic.? I don’t suppose I shall ever dare 
ask him. Somehow I don’t seem to understand my 
cousin Rob very well.” 

She would have been somewhat surprised had she 
known that it was the first time in Rob’s life that he 
had confessed to being sorry for anything he had 
done or said. He told himself, when he was safe in 
his own room again, that it had been a hundred 



THE CONWAYS. 


123 


times worse than having a tooth pulled ; but he was 
not sorry he had done it. He knew, though no one 
else did, that there was not a person in the world 
whose good opinion he would rather have than that of 
his cousin Grace, and that he should never tell an¬ 
other such story, or aim to speak lightly of that which 
should be held sacred. 


124 . 


THE CONWAYS. 


CHAPTER VIII. 

“Where is Grace?” 

The question had been asked by different members 
of the family, all of whom wanted her assistance; 
but no one had seen her since she finished her morn¬ 
ing’s work. 

“I wonder if Grace can be sick,” thought Mrs. 
Conway, as she put her own room in order. “It is 
unusual for her to disappear in this fashion. I must 
hunt her up. ” 

“Are you alone, mamma?” asked a voice from 
the doorway at that moment. 

“Oh, Grace, is it you? Where have you been all 
the morning. I have worried about you.” 

Grace entered the room, closed and fastened the 
door, then deposited the great bundle which she had 
brought with her on the nearest chair. 

“Mamma,” she said, separating the bundle and 
taking from it an old fur-lined circular cloak, “I 
found this in the cedar chest in the attic ; may I have 
it?” 

“What can you want of that old thing?” asked 
Mrs. Conway. ‘ ‘ It was worn out long ago. ” 

“Why are you keeping it ? ” asked Grace in return. 

“ I did not know but I might find a use for it some¬ 
time.” 


THE CONlVAYc 


J2S 

I can make use of it now.” 

^‘What use?” 

“ I should like the fur lining.” 

“It is moth-eaten.” 

“ Not badly. See? There are quite large places 
where it is as good as new, and it is very nice fur.” 

“What do you want of it, Grace? ” 

“I was thinking that I might fix over my old plush 
cloak with it,” replied Grace, with a nervous little 
laugh. 

“Have you decided to use your cloak money for 
Helen ? ” 

“Nearly decided ; not quite. I haven’t said any¬ 
thing to her about it, yet. I am afraid I am selfish 
enough to want to see how my old cloak looks, 
first.” 

“ How have you thought of altering it? ” 

“Why, you see, mamma,” Grace took up the 
cloak to show her mother, “ it is too narrow for me, 
but the fronts are without darts. I thought I could 
make a vest of the fur, and take off the fastenings, 
and cut out the armholes a little more. That would 
give me enough room across the chest, and make it 
a little larger across the shoulders. ” 

“Quite an idea, Grace ! You can put a band of 
the fur across the bottom, and have fur collar and 
cuffs.” 

“It won’t look new, of course,” continued Grace, 
“but it will be warm and will look much better than 
it does now. I think it would be better to have Miss 
Green come for a day, don’t you ? She will charge 
two dollars, and I think I can afford that,” 


126 


THE CONWAYS. 


“ I should hire her if I were you. The work will 
be more satisfactory, and she may know how to 
freshen the plush. Grade, dear, you are thinking 
of making quite a sacrifice. ” 

“Yes, mamma.” 

“You know your auntie has written to ask if you 
may not go home with Zana.” 

” I know ; am I going ? ” 

“ You are to do as you like about it.” 

“What do you 'want me to do .? ” 

“Just what you want to do, dear. I think the 
change will do you good; but you know we can¬ 
not afford to dress you as Zana dresses.” 

“I know you do everything you can for me, 
mamma.” 

“I was wondering if your poorer clothes would 
make your visit less pleasant.? ” 

“ Don’t worry about that, mamma,” replied Grace, 
gravely. “I’ll think it over before I decide, and I 
shall try not to be silly. ” 

Grace took the old plush cloak and the fur-lined 
circular into her arms, and went to her own room. 

Zana had gone with Rob and Ned into the country 
for fresh vegetables, and she had the room to her¬ 
self. 

Spreading the cloak on the bed, she stood looking 
at it, until her eyes filled with tears, and a little 
frown came between her brows. 

“It’s horrid to be poor,” she exclaimed, “and I 
hate it! I hate this old every-day sort of existence, 
I hate patching and piecing and making over; I 
hate everything. Why can’t everybody have enoug^h 


THE CONWAYS. 


127 


money to live on decently ? It doesn’t make people 
better nor braver nor wiser nor anything- that they 
ought to be, to oblige them to .live on just about 
half what they need. I wish I were a boy ; I’d be¬ 
come rich if I never did anything else.” 

She walked to her dressing-table, and idly picked 
up a picture which lay there, and examined it, care¬ 
lessly at first, then earnestly. It was an excellent 
cabinet photograph of Helen, taken just before her 
father died. Her calm eyes seemed to look straight 
into Grace’s troubled ones, and tell of a steadfastness 
of purpose, and a patience that made Grace ashamed 
of her petulance. 

“They were richer than we, once,” she thought, 
“ and now I suppose Helen would feel as if she had 
nothing to complain of if she and her mother had 
half as much. Nothing to complain of ! When did 
anyone hear Helen complain ! But then, she is an 
angel. I can never be half as good as she is.” 

“And yet,” whispered conscience, “you are 
tempted to forsake her for Zana, whom you know is 
not so worthy of your love and respect.” 

Grace dropped the picture and walked to the win¬ 
dow, where she seemed to be intent on trying to 
count the blossoms on a goldenrod bush which Ned 
had planted in the yard. 

“Yes,” she said, finally, as she turned away from 
the window, “that is just about what it would 
amount to. I should be forsaking Helen for Zana. 
I never railed at poverty as I did just now, before 
I listened to Zana’s foolish reasoning. If Zana had 
not come it would not be so very hard to wear that 


128 


THE CONWAYS. 


cloak another winter. Now, since I have heard her 
criticisms, I know that it will be very, very hard— 
one of the hardest things I have ever tried to do, and 
I hate myself for being so silly. I almost wish I 
had never thought of helping Helen ! I don’t be¬ 
lieve anyone would ever think of helping me-” 

Grace paused, suddenly, and the color crept 
slowly over cheek and brow. 

“ I should never be worthy, ” she said, suddenly. 
“I am too selfish. I think of everything from my 
own point of view. I might try to help my mother 
just as much as Helen tries to help hers; but I 
should not do it so cheerfully. I presume that I 
should never forget for an instant how good I was 
to help her instead of allowing her to do it all 
alone ! ” 

Grace spoke with intense sarcasm, then laughed 
merrily. One of the sudden changes to which she 
was subject had taken place. The complaining spirit 
had taken flight at the first appearance of the strong, 
helpful spirit which usually had possession of her. 

‘‘That is just you, Grace Conway,” she said, 
dancing to the mirror, and shaking her plump little 
fist at her own reflection, “ and if you are not care¬ 
ful, everybody will know you as you know your¬ 
self! Now, your first duty is to fix this thing so that 
there can be no backing out. You are not to be 
depended upon, unless you are fastened so you can’t 
get away.” 

Grace ran lightly through the hall, humming a 
little tune, and Mrs. Conway smiled when she heard 
her coming. 



THE CONWAYS. 


129 


“She has decided,” she whispered to herself, and 
her eyes filled with tears that almost hid their smiles. 
“God bless my precious little daughter.” 

The door was pushed open with Grace’s usual 
energy, and the young girl bounded into the room. 

“I’m going to do it, mother,” she said. 

“Going to do what.?” asked Mrs. Conway, as if 
she did not know. She wanted to give Grace a little 
more time. 

“Going to lend my cloak money to Helen for an 
indefinite length of time, and wear my old cloak 
another winter.” 

“What about your visit.? ” 

“I haven’t decided, yet. I suppose I shall be 
governed by circumstances.” 

Grace laughed, and tried to look as if she did not 
care much whether she went to the city, or not. 

“What do you mean by circumstances.? Zana's 
approval or disapproval of your wardrobe.? ” 

“ I'm afraid you have guessed it, you shrewd little 
mamma. I don’t expect Zana’s approval. She is 
not satisfied with her own dresses, and how could I 
expect her to like mine which are ever so much 
plainer.? I don’t mind a little of her disapproval, 
mother, but if she should criticize me a very great 
deal I think I would rather stay at home.” 

“Your cloak is the shabbiest part of your ward¬ 
robe ; a good cloak costs more than any other gar¬ 
ment, and would do much towards making you look 
well dressed.” 

“Mother, what is it you are thinking.? I don’t 
understand you. ” 


9 


130 


THE CONWAYS, 


“lam not trying to influence you, dear, or to 
make you change your mind; I only want you to 
think well before you act I am older than you, 
and I know that you are not setting yourself an easy 
task/’ 

“Don’t worry, mamma ; having put my hand to 
the plow, I shall not look back, at least for more 
than a minute at a time. You see, it is just this 
way : I can see more clearly than I could before 
Zana came, what a hard life Helen has before her 
unless she is given a little help, and there is no one 
to help her but me. Helen is superior to Zana and 
to all the other girls who snub her on account of her 
mother’s occupation, but I can’t make hardly any 
of them believe it. Mamma, there must be a large 
number of silly people in the world, if what Zana 
says is true. Do you believe that ladies who are 
worth considering would snub Helen ? ” 

“I think Helen’s position will make a difference 
with a great many nice people, Grace. I fancy your 
old cloak will help you to a little painful experience in 
that line before spring, especially if you go to the city. ” 

‘ ‘ Well, it can’t hurt forever, ” replied Grace, stoutly, 
“and Helen will have to suffer as long as she lives 
unless she is helped. She is always so patient and 
cheerful : I shouldn’t feel half so sorry about her if 
she would act more as I do when things don’t go to 
suit me.” 

“Helen is certainly a very fine girl. My heart 
has ached for her many times, since her father died, 
especially when I have seen how quietly she bore 
the pain caused by others’ thoughtlessness. ” 


THE CONWAYS. 


131 

‘‘I’m going to help her, mother; and now I think 
I’ll go over and have a talk with her about it. I’ve 
said it, now, and you’ve heard it, and that is as 
good as a promissory note, signed, sealed and de¬ 
livered. Good-bye, mammy ; I’ll be back in time for 
dinner.” 

“Come here, dear ! ” 

Grace was just disappearing through the door, 
when she heard her mother call her. 

“What is it, mamma.? ” she asked, returning im¬ 
mediately. 

“I only wanted to say that I am very proud of 
my dear, unselfish little daughter ! ” 

“Don’t call me that, mother,” replied Grace, 
hiding her face on her mother’s shoulder. “ I’m not 
unselfish, but I try to be. If you knew all I have 
thought this morning, you wouldn’t have a very high 
opinion of me.” 

The washing had been lighter than usual that 
morning, and, to Grace’s great delight, it was swing¬ 
ing on the line when she reached her friend’s house, 
and Mrs. Dayne was in her own room resting. 

“Oh, delightful!” exclaimed Grace, when Helen 
had explained ; “ now I can have you all to myself 
for a little while. ” 

“We haven’t had one of our nice, confidential 
visits in a long time, have we .? ” said Helen. “Do 
you know, Grace, I have been almost jealous since 
Zana came.” 

“I’m awfully glad to hear it ! I shouldn’t want 
you to be just as happy when you'could not see me 
so often. I like to think how much I miss you I ” 


132 


THE CONWAYS. 


A little silence followed that speech, which both 
girls understood perfectly. 

“We might come over oftenerthan we do,’' con¬ 
tinued Grace, “but it doesn’t seem quite the same 
when there is a third party, and of course I can’t 
leave Zana.” 

“I was thinking of that, just to-day,” answered 
Helen, ‘ ‘ about our liking to be alone together. You 
and J are like a couple of sentimental lovers, Grace. 
We ought to be ashamed of ourselves for being so 
silly ! ” 

“We are,” Grace promptly responded, and both 
girls laughed. 

The friendship between these two was very beauti¬ 
ful, lacking none of the warmth of the usual girl- 
friendship, but having a firm foundation in principles 
that less thoughtful girls could not comprehend. 
They understood each other thoroughly, and each 
was sure that the other represented the highest type 
of girlhood. 

Ned often declared that he had caught them, on 
several different occasions, visiting together without 
speaking a word. 

“There they sat,” he would say, “staring at each 
other as if they could not turn their eyes, under pen¬ 
alty of death, and pretty soon Helen would reply to 
something th^it Grace had thought ; then there would 
be another mournful pause, and Grace would reply 
to one of Helen’s thoughts, and so it would go on, 
and the listener would have no more of an idea of 
what they were talking, than the man in the moon.” 

It seemed, to day, as if Ned’s raillery might be 


THE CONWAYS. 


133 

based on fact; for, after a long period of silence, 
Helen said with a smile : 

“Well, Grace, what is it ? 

“ Helen, why don't you study wood-engraving ? 

“What put that question into your head, just at 
this moment ? ” 

“Have you been thinking of it, too?” 

“All the morning. Wouldn't Ned laugh if he 
could hear that? I have been wishing,—Oh, Grace, 
you don't know how I wish that I might take 
lessons ! ” 

Helen arose quickly, and began to pace the floor, 
a habit of hers, when she wished to exercise self- 
control in a more than usual degree. 

“How much do you suppose it would cost?” 
asked Grace. 

“More than I can ever have to spend in that 
way, I fear. There is a place in New York where 
instruction is given to girls free of charge. Don’t say 
anything about this to mother, will you, Grace ? It 
would worry her to know how I long to take lessons, 
and she has enough to worry her now. I often 
think if this life is hard for me to bear,* what must 
it be for her ! ” 

“You ought to fit yourself to help her more than 
you can by taking in washing, ” said Grace. “She 
can’t do washing always, and you are not so strong 
as she is.” 

“I know that. It frightens me, sometimes, when 
I think of the future ; but what can I do? It seems 
as if mother and I were fated to go round and 
round in the same dreadful path, day after day, and 


^34 


THE CONWAYS. 


every day we wear it down a little deeper. Pretty 
soon we shall have two straight walls, one on either 
side, and they will be so high that we cannot so much 
as see what is going on over our heads. They are 
so high now that it seems impossible to climb to the 
top, where we might find some pleasanter rut to 
travel in. There ! Tve complained my little com¬ 
plaint and I hope you will forgive me! Tm not a 
bit sorry, however, for telling that wonderful story. 
I feel ever so much better now it is off my mind. 
You remember how^Iark Twain got rid of a trouble¬ 
some rhyme by telling it to someone else. Now 
you may have the feeling, for a day or two, of 
trotting in a little circle ! By the way, is there any 
news about the entertainment V 

Grace roused herself. All the time Helen had 
been talking, she had been so busy with her own 
thoughts that she scarcely heard her. 

“Any news.?” she repeated. “Oh! Tm not 
thinking of the entertainment, just now.” 

“What are you thinking about, I wonder. I 
don’t believe you heard one word of the pretty, 
mirthful story I told you.” 

“How did you learn about that place in New 
York, Helen.?” 

“The drawing-teacher told me. I asked him, 
one day, just out of curiosity, how much it woul 1 
cost a girl to learn wood-engraving. He replied, 

‘ Only^the fare to New York, and board while there.' 
Then he told me of a boarding home for youn^ 
women where I could get boarded for about thre ^ 
dollars a week. It was foolish of me to ask him, 


THE CONWAYS. 


nt> 

when I knew I couldn’t go; for ever since I have 
been obliged to do battle with the blues. You can’t 
think how glad I was to see you coming alone, 
Grace. I never needed you more than I do to-day.” 

“Helen, can you guess what I came for? Ned 
would have another laugh if he knew how our 
minds have run in the same channel, for the last 
few days. You have got to learn wood-engraving, 
Helen ! I came over on purpose to lend you fifty 
dollars, and-” 

“ Grace, are you crazy ? ” 

“Not a bit. I thought of putting the money 
out at interest until I have saved enough for a 
bicycle-” 

“Grace ! ” 

Helen spoke reproachfully, and covered her friend’s 
mouth with her hand. 

“Tell it just as it is, please. Grade. You want to 
help me, by lending me some money. Where does 
this money coriie from ? What do you propose to 
do without ? ” 

“ It is money I have saved from my allowance. 
Miss Independence. That is the truth. I might 
buy a number of things with it, which I don’t need, 
and don’t intend to buy. That money, my dear 
child, forms the beginning of my private fortune. 
Are you satisfied? Seriously, Helen, I want you 
to use it and pay me when you can, ” 

“I can’t do it, Grace ; don’t tempt me. What if 
I should take it, and never be able to pay you? 
No, no ! You lare just as good as you can be ; but 
please don’t say another word about it.” 




136 


THE CONWAYS. 


Grace did say a great many words, however, and 
being possessed of persuasive powers nearly equal 
to Ned’s, she finally succeeded in talking Helen over 
to see the matter in the same light she did. 

The two friends were busy making plans, when 
they were interrupted by Ned, who reached through 
the open window, and took a firm hold of his sister’s 
back hair. 

“ Hurry ! ” he shouted, “if you want to ride home 
with us ! ” 

“Oh, Ned, you pull ! I don’t want to ride home 
with you.” 

“So.? Well, you’re going to have that pleasure. 
Hurry! ” 

“ How did you know I was here.? ” 

“ Saw you through the window. It is nearly 
dinner time. Come on ! ” 

“Ouch ! Ned, don’t pull so ! ” 

“ If your head follows my hand, there will be no 
pulling to complain of.” 

“But I can’t climb through the window.” 

“Yes, you can. You would do it quicker than a 
cat if you wanted to throw a pitcher of water into my 
face.” 

“But, Ned ! everybody will see me.” 

“I know it, dearie. Everybody saw me this 
morning, when I sailed out of the house with a 
towel pinned to my coat-tail. Revenge is mine, 
sist'^r. 


'’Jo ',ie out torou-^h the window, love, 

< )ut neet your brother, love ; 

Come, my darling, when we’re alone. 
We’ll tell what we know about joking I ” 
















































































































































THE CONWAYS. 




**Don’t sing, Ned,” begged Grace. “I’d rather 
go two blocks on my hands and knees than hear you 
do that.” 

Grace crawled through the window as gracefully 
as she could, and waved her hand to Helen. 

“I’ll see you again, very soon,” she said. 

“I should think so!” exclaimed Ned. “Aren’t 
you coming over to work on the paper, this evening, 
Helen.? ” 

“Yes; Grace meant-” 

“Oh, I know now what she meant! mooning; 
mumbling ; mind-reading; coddling ; bah ! ” 

Ned made a wry face, doffed his hat, and bowed 
low as if he were seasick, then joined Grace and his 
cousins, who were occupying the only seat in the 
light wagon. 

“Where am I going to sit.? ” he asked. 

“You might trot behind,” suggested Grace. 

“We have no other little dog,” added Zana. 

“ Rob, will you sit there and hear me abused like 
that! ” exclaimed Ned, tragically. 

“Never ! Speak, me lord ! How shall I avenge 
thee ? ” 

“Just lend a hand. These girls are to be seated 
on the bottom of the wagon-box, while you and I, 
their masters, ride in comfort on the seat. ” 

It was useless for the girls to protest. They were 
lifted over the back of the seat, and placed in the 
bottom of the light wagon ; then the boys appropri¬ 
ated the seat, and Ned drove the horses home on a 
run, while the girls wished for cushions and a sudden 
eclipse of the sun. 



THE CONWAYS, 


13^ 


CHAPTER IX. 

Miss Green, the village tailoress, had come and 
gone, and Grace turned round and round before the 
mirror in her mother’s room viewing the effect of the 
made-over cloak from every position. 

“It doesn’t look as bad as it might! ” she said, at 
last, in a tone of satisfaction. 

‘ ‘ It looks very much better than I thought it would, ” 
replied the mother. 

“The sleeves are creased at the elbow, but I don’t 
believe they will be so very noticeable, and the worn 
places under the arms won’t show unless I raise my 
arms over my head. I belie\'^ it will do to wear to 
Zana’s. At any rate, it is much nicer than the cloak 
Helen is going to wear to New York.” 

“ Isn’t Helen going to get anything new to wear 
to New York? ” asked Zana, appearing in the door¬ 
way. 

“Where did you come from?” inquired Grace, 
wondering how much of the conversation her cousin 
had heard. “I thought you were out for a walk.” 

“It is too chilly to go walking : I decided to wait 
awhile. So that is your new cloak ! Turn around, 
slowly, so I can see how it looks.” 

Zana eyed it critically, determined to take her time 


THE CONWA VS. 


139 


and find something to say in praise of it. She had 
heard all Grace had said, and was resolved that the 
cloak should not prevent her cousin from going home 
with her. 

‘ ‘ It looks like a different cloak, Grace, she said, 
finally. ‘‘ That fur vest is really becoming and 
pretty. 

Grace blushed with pleasure, and Zana congratu¬ 
lated herself on having said just enough and not too 
much. 

‘‘ By the way,” she continued, going back to the 
first subject, “ is it really true that Helen isn't going 
to have anything new to wear to New York ? ” 

“That is what she says,” replied Grace. “I do 
wish she could afford to get a new dress, at least, 
but she thinks she cannot. ” 

“She will be laughed at by everyone who sees her. 
She is positively shabby.” 

“She has had very little since her father died.” 

“ I wonder if she would take something ofmine.?” 
asked Zana. “I have ever so many more dresses 
than I need, and I should like to give her one or two. 
Tm going to ask her-” 

“Better not,” interrupted Grace. “I shouldn't 
dare to, and I know her better than you do. Helen 
is very proud, and she is the most independent girl 
I ever knew. She would feel so hurt that she would 
never forgive you.” 

“ But, Grace, she can't go to New York looking so 
—so like a beggar. ” 

“Helen couldn't look like a beggar, even if she 
were dressed in rags. She says if she does not care 



140 


THE CONWAYS. 


more for her lessons in wood-engraving than for what 
folks may say of her clothes, she might better stay 
at home. She thinks it would not be wise to borrow 
money with which to buy clothes. ” 

“Perhaps she doesn’t care so much as girls in better 
circumstances about what people think.” 

“Zana Conway, what are you saying.?” Grace 
turned quickly, and looked at her cousin with flash- 
ing eyes. “Do you suppose that Helen ceased to 
be human when her father died? One would think, 
to hear you talk, that money gave a person every 
mental and moral characteristic worth having, and 
that all took wings when the money did! ” 

“I don't think that, of course,” replied Zana, “but 
I do know that money makes a difference. It is hard 
to explain it, so that it will not sound harsher than I 
mean it. I realize that girls whose fathers are richer 
than mine have pleasures that I know nothing of, 
and so don’t miss ; but if I had been accustomed to 
having them, then I would find it hard to do without 
them. It is just so about everything else.” 

“Your argument will hardly hold good in this 
case,” said Grace, “for it has not been many years 
since Helen had more than you have now. Yet you 
and a great many others seem to think that because 

she is poor now-But what is the use of talking ! 

I can’t think of it without being angry ! ” 

“I suppose I am to blame,” said Zana, good- 
naturedly, “but I really cannot understand your 
feeling for Helen, although I try to. Perhaps it is 
because I don’t understand her very well. I am 
sorry for her, of course, and would do anything 


THE CONWAYS. 


141 

I could to help her ; but I could never feel towards 
her as I do towards the girls in my own set” 

“You might love her as dearly as I do, if she 
wore a silk dress,” thought Grace, but she was wise 
enough not to say so, knowing that it would do no 
good, and changed the subject by exclaiming : 

“ Isn’t it nice that we have such fine weather for 
our entertainment ! I do hope we shall have a 
crowd. ” 

“Ned thinks there will surely be a hundred,” 
replied Zana. “That will be twenty-five dollars 
admission fee, besides-” 

“ Hush ! ” exclaimed Grace, “ mamma will hear ! ” 

“ Don’t you wish you knew how much mamma 
has heard ? ” asked Mrs. Conway, smiling. 

“ Oh, mother ! have you heard anything ? ” asked 
Grace. 

“We have tried to be so careful,” added Zana. 

“But mother has the sharpest ears ! What have 
you heard, mother ? ” 

“IMasks; ghosts; weird music; screen,” began 
Tvirs. Conway, then looked at the girls as if there w^as 
a great deal more that she might tell if she chose. 

“ She knows everything!” exclaimed Zana, in a 
tone of great disappointment, and for a moment 
Grace looked equally miserable ; then catching a 
o-leam of amusement in her mother’s eyes, she 
suddenly exclaimed : 

“Oh, Mother Conway, you’re just guessing! 
Don’t worry, Zana ; mother has* tried that trick on 
me, before. She has heard a few words, and thinks 
she will get us to tell her everything, and then laugh 



142 


THE CONWAYS. 


at us. Confess, you deceitful -mammy ! Am I not 
right 

Grace was shaking her mother, and tumbling her 
hair, and patting her cheeks, and poking her fingers 
into her ribs, and acting more like a frolicsome kitten 
than a girl of sixteen, and Zana watched her with 
the expression of surprise on her face that was always 
there when she saw Ned or Grace treating their 
mother with such familiarity. 

“My!” she thought, “what would my mother 
say if Rob and I should treat her that way .? I fancy 
we shouldn't care to try it more than once.” 

Then she began dreaming of a nice home which 
might have been theirs, had her mother been more 
like Aunt Marie. She had indulged in a great many 
such dreams since coming to visit Grace, and this 
time the dream was so pleasant that she hardly 
heard Mrs. Conway’s laughing confession, or Grace’s 
announcement that she “ was not .to be fooled any 
more by such a scheming mother.” 

“ Doors open at eight o’clock,” read the printed 
admission tickets which had been prepared for the 
entertainment, but long before that hour, the mem¬ 
bers of the V. I. A. gathered in the hall to receive 
the expected guests. 

The writer lacks words to give a description of 
that entertainment which would do it justice; but 
an attempt will be made, since' some of the readers 
might otherwise think themselves defrauded. 

When the guests* entered the hall, they were 
startled, at first, by its ghostly appearance. It was 
draped in white from ceiling to floor, with not one 


THE CONWAYS. 


143 


spot of color to relieve the monotony. Tall figures 
in white paper caps and long white gowns flitted 
about the room, but not a loud word was spoken. 
As each guest entered the room, he was handed a 
card on one side of which was printed : 

GHOST SOCIAL WITH VARIATIONS. 

On the other side was the word, “Silence,” and 
beneath it, this warning: “Anyone speaking or 
laughing aloud, before refreshments are served, will 
be required to pay a fine of five cents.” 

All the lamps were covered with blue shades, over 
which were thin shades of white, and the light 
shining through them produced an effect which the 
young people pronounced beautiful, and the older 
ones called horribly dismal. 

A small dressing-room had been made by a parti¬ 
tion across one corner of the hall, and into this no 
one was allowed to go. When it seemed as if there 
would be no fresh arrivals, the most blood-curdling 
music that could be invented by the members of the 
V. 1. A. came from this dressing-room to harrow the 
nerves of the guests. “The only thing in its favor,” 
whispered the guests to each other, “is that it 
seems to be muffled.” 

Soon, however, it seemed to escape from its prison, 
and the hall was filled with discordant shrieks, and 
the sound of quarrelsome cats, and various mournful 
noises that were enough to drive a person not pos¬ 
sessed of nerves of iron, to the verge of distraction. 
The guests glanced 'towards the door leading into 


144 


THE CONWAYS. 


the smaller room, as if meditating an attack ; but 
suddenly the following announcement appeared 
above it, in white letters on a black background : 

“chorus of ghosts. 


“ It will grow worse until the sum of five dollars has been 
placed in the box fastened to this door. 

“the outer door is locked and you can’t get out.” 

The door was locked. It was a masterly stroke 
on the part of the V. I. A., for their music would 
have driven the last of their audience out of doors. 
As it was, the fathers of Oakwood, led by Mr. Con¬ 
way, whispered together, for a few moments, and 
concluded to humor the audacious members of the 
V. I. A. for once, and five dollars was soon deposited 
in the box. The music ceased instantly, but was 
immediately succeeded by the deafening tones of 
a huge cow-bell. A stage had been built near the 
door leading into the small room, and was hidden 
from the audience by a large white screen. When 
the bell, which was held by some one behind this 
screen, began ringing, the lights were suddenly low¬ 
ered, and the guests saw on the screen these wmrds : 
“Be seated, please; you are to be entertained.” 
Then they knew that the bell was intended to call 
their attention to the screen, and immediately found 
seats. 

A tall figure in white stood beside the screen, in 
full view of the audience. He held a cane in his 


THE CONWAYS. 


145 

hand, which he waved in the air over his head, in 
what he meant to be a most impressive fashion. 

Arise, ye ghosts!'' he commanded, “the mid¬ 
night hour draws nigh." 

Immediately there appeared on the screen shadows 
of many persons in long draperies, who seemed to 
spring up from the floor. 

“Shadow pantomimes!" exclaimed Mr. Conway, 
“ and Ned is to explain." 

“Five cents fine, sir ! " said a melancholy voice, 
and one of the figures in white stood beside him with 
outstretched hand. 

“I thought you ghosts were all behind the screen," 
said Mr. Conway. 

“Five cents more!" exclaimed the melancholy 
voice, and everybody laughed, silently. 

“Here! take a quarter, and let me say what is 
on my mind," exclaimed Mn Conway, desperately, 
handing out twenty-five cents. “Can't we say a 
word until this show is done .? " 

“Not until refreshments are served, except in 
whispers," replied the ghostly individual, as he hur¬ 
ried away to another part of the room, to collect 
a fine from a man who had been imprudent enough 
to laugh aloud. 

The shadows on the screen had been darting back 
and forth in wild confusion, but were now indulg¬ 
ing in a very lively dance. 

“These merry sprites," explained the individual 
with the cane, “ are ghosts of the fierce Indians who 
used to inhabit the region around Oakwood. They 
have just heard that there is talk of making great im- 
?Q 


146 


THE CONWAYS. 


provements in our little village, and they are now 
met to consider how best to prevent it. They do 
not take kindly to civilization. Ye people of Oak- 
wood ! Do you wish to live like the red man in the 
forest.? Do you also object to advancement? Do 
you consider fine pavements, drinking fountains, a 
beautiful park, shaded streets, et cetera, et cetera, in¬ 
definitely, of no importance compared with—with— 
compared with--” 

“ Filthy lucre !'’ prompted a ghostly companion 
in a stage whisper that brought a smile to every face 
in the audience. 

“Compared with the advantages which maybe 
procured by the judicious expenditure of a little 
money, continued the first speaker. “ If so, keep on 
in the path you are treading. Heap up your gold ; 
tramp through muddy streets ; cut the noble trees 
around the Springs into firewood ; bow before wealth, 
and let the ghost of this warlike tribe trample your 
love of the beautiful into the dust." 

“ I thought you spoke of mud, just now,” ven¬ 
tured Mrs. Conway. 

“Five cents, please ! A hand was immediately 
extended before her. 

“ Ask Mr. Conway for it. ” 

“Five cents more, please ! ” said the same voice, 
in an aggravating monotone. 

“ Keep quiet or you’ll have a heavy debt hanging 
over me,” whispered Mr. Conway. 

The ghosts of the departed Indians had left the 
scene, and in their place could be seen a woman 
bending over a washtub and a naan sawing wood, 



THE COJVIVAVS. 


147 


‘‘Here, my friends/' explained the speaker, ‘‘you 
see an illustration of the spirit of the rising genera¬ 
tion. How thankful you should be that you are per¬ 
mitted to be so closely related to such a generation ! 
Rather than have our village remain in its present 
period of stagnation, we would saw wood and take 
in washing,—figuratively speaking, you will under¬ 
stand,—that we might raise the necessary funds to 
give it a higher place in the scale of advancement. 
My friends, there is a hint in that picture on the 
screen which you cannot afford to overlook. Take 
my disinterested advice, and spend your money 
freely here to-night ! " 

“Business and Ned Conway are synonymous,” 
said a man in the audience, an opinion which cost 
him five cents. 

A dozen of the pantomimic scenes were explained 
by the lecturer, who never allowed himself or his 
audience to forget the object for which the social 
was given ; then an invitation was extended to those 
who were hungry enough to care to purchase refresh¬ 
ments, to seat themselves at long tables in an ad¬ 
joining room, and the audience was informed that 
talking was no longer considered a misdemeanor 
punishable by fine ! 

The dining-room was arranged to look quite as 
ghostly as the other room, and silent figures in 
long white gowns stood ready to wait upon the 
tables. Beside each plate a bill of fare was placed, 
headed with the announcement that refreshments 
would bQ. served on the European plan. 


148 


THE CONWAYS. 


“The young people do nice work on that new 
press/’ said Mr. Brown, examining his bill of fare, 
critically. 

“I was afraid you would not think so when you 
saw the way in which your advertisement appeared 
in their paper,” replied I\Irs. Convvmy. 

“I was a little vexed, just at first,” said Mr. 
Brown, laughing. “A dealer in furniture does not 
care to advertise very extensively a commodity of 
that sort. ” 

‘ ‘ I must thank you for the way in which you received 
Ned’s explanation. It did him more good than a 
dozen lectures. IMy boy is a little too fond of play¬ 
ing practical jokes. ” 

“Do help me order my supper!” exclaimed 
Mrs. Dayne. “I was never so puzzled in m,y 
life.” 

There was a hearty echo of her sentiment around 
the table, to the great amusement of the waiters. 
This bill of fare had cost the young people consider¬ 
able work, and when finished was a source of great 
satisfaction. Here is a copy of it: 


No. I. DearW. H. Beat.5 cts. 

No. 2. C. E. H. Cat, wire me off!.5 cts. 

No. 3. Lump-ice, cubs-reck.2 cts. 

No. 4. Mad Helboi.3 cts. 

No. 5. ]\Iike Dace can race.10 cts. 

No. 6. Sh ! Lima N. K. Mud.5 cts. 

No. 7. Bad Anna D. robbed wren’s beak. 10 cts. 

No. 8. Lime T. Kews.5 cts. 


“Ten cents to the person who will translate this 









THE CONWAYS. 


149 

thing ! ” called Mr. Conway, but no one accepted his 
offer. 

“ Give me No. 6, please,”said Mrs. Dayne, finally, 
placing five cents into the hand which was immedi¬ 
ately outstretched to receive it. 

“ Must we pay in advance } ” asked Mr. Brown. 

The waiter nodded, and hurried away to fill Mrs. 
Dayne’s order. 

Immediately a huge placard appeared before the 
guests, bearing the inforgiation that no one would be 
served until all orders were in. 

“It is worse than highway robbery!” growled 
one gentleman ; but his eyes twinkled so merrily 
that everyone knew he was not so vexed as he 
wished to appear. 

The waiters now came forward with pencils and 
paper, and made memorandums of the orders as 
fast as given, and very soon the guests were served 
with a selection -of viands that surprised them and 
caused no little amusement. 

Mr. Conway had ordered a dish of everything on 
the bill of fare, in order, he said, to be sure to have 
as good as the house afforded, and before him were 
arranged dishes containing wheat bread, coffee with 
cream, cucumber pickles, boiled ham, cake and ice¬ 
cream, mush and milk, baked beans and brown 
bread, and sweet milk. 

“Oh, dear!” sighed Mrs. Dayne, “how was I 
to know that No. 6 meant mush and milk.?” , 

“ Don’t you like it.?” asked a gentleman on her 
right.? 

“ Not the least little bit.” 


THE CONWAYS. 


150 

“ Suppose we trade. I have secured two slices 
of white bread as a result of ordering No. i, and I 
prefer mush and milk.” 

The exchange was made, and other guests, who 
could not re-arrange the transposed letters in the 
bill of fare followed their example, and for a time 
the spirit of trade seemed to have taken possession 
of them. 

After refreshments, there were a few tableaux, a 
speech by Rob which was acted instead of spoken, 
and a little comedy acted silently, then the audience 
dispersed, feeling as if they had been very well 
entertained. 

“ How much have we, Miss Treasurer.?” asked 
Ned of Winnie Percy, who had been appointed 
treasurer of the V. I. A. 

‘'A clear profit of forty-five dollars ! ” she replied. 

“ Three cheers for the V. I. A.” shouted Ned, and 
everyone, even the girls, responded with enthusiasm. 

“ I believe they had a good time,” said Helen. 

“There’s not the least doubt of it!” answered 
Rob. 

“We can get up an entertainment which will be 
ever so much more fun,” said Grace. “We must 
have something new every time, or people will stay 
at home, you know.” 

“Have you something new in mind?” asked 
Willard Brown. 

“ Something that will take pretty well, I think, ” 
she replied, “ but I’ll not explain now. Ned, won’t 
you call a meeting of the members of the V. I. A. 
at the editorial office, for to-morrow night ? We 


THE CONWAYS. 


ought to make plans for the next social at once, so 
as to have plenty of time to prepare.” 

The announcement was made ; then the young 
people went to their several homes, happy in the 
belief that they should have no difficulty in raising 
money for the proposed park. 


152 


THE CONWAYS. 


CHAPTER X. 

At the next meeting of the V. L A. after the plan 
which Grace had in mind for the second of the series 
of socials had been discussed and adopted, Ned 
rose and said : 

“ Ladies and gentlemen, it becomes my painful 
privilege-” 

“ Painful privilege is excruciating, my dear sir ! ” 
interrupted Grace. 

“ IMr. President,” Ned bowed to Rob, who had 
been unanimously elected President of the V. LA., 
notwithstanding the ludicrous manner in which he 
had first filled the office of chairman, ‘‘ will your 
honor oblige the members of this association by 
requiring the vice-president to hold her tongue.? ” 

Zana was on her feet in an instant. 

“ Mr. President,” she said, ]\Ir. Ned Conway 
has no authority to speak for the members of the 
V. 1 . A. so far as our beloved vice-president is con¬ 
cerned. ” 

‘'Vote! Vote! Put it to vote,'’^called voices 
from different parts of the room. A vote was taken, 
which resulted in a tie ; for there were as many 
girls as boys in the room, and the former voted for 
Grace, while the latter voted for Ned. 



THE CONWAYS. 


153 


“ Let there be impressive silence in this room for 
half an hour,” said Rob with great gravity, ‘‘while 
I consult the authorities on this momentous ques¬ 
tion. ” 

He opened the copy of Webster's unabridged dic¬ 
tionary, pored over it for a moment, then consulted 
several volumes of agricultural reports, a song book, 
and an almanac, all with the utmost seriousness, 
apparently, and all the while the amused members 
of the V. I. A. kept perfectly quiet. Rob’s original 
way of filling the president’s chair afforded them 
continual delight. 

“ Ladies and gentlemen,” said Rob, finally, as he 
adjusted the blue goggles, which he kept for impor¬ 
tant occasions, “ it has been decided by the one 
man whom I acknowledge as my superior, that, in 
questions like the mighty one now before us, the 
offending party must hold her tongue half the time, 
and Miss Grace Conway will accordingly oblige us 
by imposing the strictest silence on that unruly 
member of her makeup, for the time specified.” 

“Your honor,” said Ned, “if I understand the 
full import of that decision, it means that but half 
of any sentence may be spoken by the culprit, and 
that all the long words must be parted in the middle. 
Am I right, most noble sir.? ” 

“Perfectly correct,” replied Rob, almost choking 
in his endeavor to keep from laughing. “Will Mr. 
Ned Conway kindly favor us with the remainder of 
his interesting and highly instructive discourse 

“It becomes my painful privilege-’’repeated 

Ned, with a defiant glance at Grace. 



54 


THE CONWAYS. 


“ There are some idiots who can learn/' mused 
Grace, by way of interruption. 

‘‘ Silence in the court-room ! " commanded the 
president. 

“ Your honor," retorted Grace, “it is my painful 
privilege to speak half of the sentence, and worse 
might have been said, and yet-” 

Grace took her seat without attempting to finish 
her sentence, and the girls apphiuded so vocifer¬ 
ously that the hisses of the boys were scarcely 
heard. 

“It becomes my painful privilege," repeated Ned, 
undauntedly, “ to announce the proposed absence 
of one of our most honored members." 

Ned paused to take a drink of water, first brush¬ 
ing an imaginary mustache away from his lips, and 
the members of the V. I. A. looked inquiringly at 
one another. They could not decide whether Ned 
were joking, or if someone were really going to 
leave. 

“A great undertaking is never carried to comple¬ 
tion," continued Ned, “ without severe losses, great 
inconvenience, and much sorrow on the part of those 
engaged in it. Had it not been for the object to 
which we, as members of the V. I. A., have met 
here to further, this loss, inconvenience, and sorrow 
could not have come to us." 

“ IMr. President," said Winnie Percy, “I move 
that JMr. Ned Conway be required to tell his news in 
fewer words." 

‘ ‘ The motion of our respected, but misguided treas¬ 
urer must be set aside without being put to vote," 



THE CONWAYS. 


I 5 S 

decided Rob, “ being so weak as to appear ludicrous 
should it be entered on our records. Mr. Secretary, 
I beg that you will forget that you heard the request 
of the treasurer. Mr. Conway, pardon the interrup¬ 
tion, and proceed with the discourse.” 

“To make my meaning quite clear to you, ladies 
and gentlemen,” continued Ned, ‘T must take you 
back to the time when this association did not exist. 
Not to stay, however ; do not think that I would ask 
you to tarry long in such a benighted state of civil¬ 
ization. I simply wish to give you a running start, 
which shall enable you to jump over a few preliminary 
discussions, and land on both feet in the office of the 
‘Oakwood Transcript,’just before the first issue is 
ready for the public. You will see two choice spirits 
standing before a printer’s case, absorbed in a study 
of this great problem : ‘ How may advertisements 
be set most attractively } ’ Like whispered tones of 
inspired voices came the thought, ‘ By means of illus¬ 
trations.’ But how print the illustrations.? There 
are many fine artists among us, but no wood- 
engraver. Finally one of the choice spirits said to 
the other, ‘Ned, dear, I wish I might learn wood¬ 
engraving ! ’ ” 

“She never said anything of the sort ! ” exclaimed 
Helen. 

“That,” continued Ned, taking no notice of the 
interruption, “that, my friends, is the little seed 
from which has sprung the great resolution. In 
just one week our esteemed citizen, Miss Helen 
Dayne, the second of the choice spirits to whom I 
referred, will start for New York city, where she 


THE CONWAYS. 


156 

expects to learn the art of wood-engraving. Our 
honored president will now direct proceedings." 

Rob arose as Ned took his seat, and pulled a huge 
red*bandanna handkerchief from his pocket. 

“Ladies and gentlemen,” he said, “we will shed 
a few tears over our great loss ! ” 

He then set the example by weeping at the top of 
his voice. Every boy in the room joined in without 
further invitation, and the noise they made was hor¬ 
rible. Rob wrung his handkerchief, spread it over the 
back of a chairas if to dry it, and took another from 
his pocket. Ned did likewise. Soon these handker¬ 
chiefs hung beside the others, and each of the boys 
drew a third one from his pocket. These were fol¬ 
lowed by some fine silk handkerchiefs which the girls 
had worn around their necks, under their cloaks. 
By this time most of the girl members of the associ¬ 
ation were laughing so heartily that real tears ran 
down their cheeks. It was plain that Rob and Ned 
had planned beforehand to take the members of the 
V. I. A. by surprise. 

“Ladies and gentlemen,” said Rob, when the 
last handkerchief had been placed on the chair-back, 
“we will now give three cheers for Miss Helen 
Dayne, the young lady who has the courage to brave 
the dangers of an unknown country in search of 
information.” 

The cheers were given with great enthusiasm. 

“And now,” continued Rob, “the young lady 
who is to enjoy the delight of a season in New York 
city will receive the congratulations of her friends. 


THE CONWAYS. 


157 

and for that purpose this meeting will be adjourned 
without further ceremony.” 

“Is it true ” asked the young people, gathering 
around Helen. 

“It is true that I am going to New York,” she 
replied; “but what I want to know is how Ned and 
Rob found it out ? Girls, did you-” 

“ I didn't even know of it, myself! " interrupted 
Zana. 

‘ ‘ And I never mentioned it,” added Grace. ‘' Boys, 
how in the world did you get your informa¬ 
tion.?” 

“We are clairvoyants, "replied Ned. “We are not 
obliged to wait for information until you see fit to 
impart it.” 

“You are just as mean as you can be ! ” replied 
Grace, indignantly. 

“Why so, my little lamb I ” asked Rob. 

“ Because you have spoiled all our fun 1 ” 

“ Instead, we have substituted one form of enjoy¬ 
ment for another. You had planned a sort of sur¬ 
prise party, where Helen was to receive the good 
wishes of her friends. We planned this I Could 
anything have gone off better.? ” 

“But I wanted to be the one to tell of my good 
fortune 1 ” protested Helen. 

“My child,” replied Ned, “ it would not have been 
proper. Madam Grundy would have been shocked. 
This is a matter requiring careful handling ; it could 
not have been broached successfully except by men 
of rare and mature judgment, such as is possessed by 
Rob and myself,” 



THE CONWAYS. 


15S 

“ How did you learn of it? Please tell,” said 
Helen. 

‘‘ Tell you our secrets when you refused to take 
us into your confidence ! ’’exclaimed Rob. “ Impos¬ 
sible. You decided that no one should know, except 
yourself and Grace—even poor Zana was left out— 
and now you have the assurance to demand our 
secret as if you had a right to it.” 

Grace and Helen were vexed, but the whole affair 
was so ludicrous that they could not appear as offended 
as they wished. They had been very careful to men¬ 
tion the subject before no one but Mrs. Dayne and 
Mrs. Conway, thinking to give all the young people a 
great surprise. They could not believe either of the 
mothers had told their secret, but how had Ned and 
Rob got hold of it! It was a puzzling question and 
the boys were highly delighted over their perplexity. 

When the members of the V. L A. had dispersed, 
Grace and Ned found themselves alone in the office. 

“ Did you see how skillfully I managed to send 
Rob and Zana with the Raleigh girls,” asked Ned. 

“ I noticed your efforts in that direction,” replied 
Grace, quietly. “ Ned, how much do you know ?” 

“More than most persons of this generation, I 
believe,” replied Ned, with a mischievous light in his 
eyes. 

“ How much do you know about Helen’s new 
plan ? ” 

“Nearly as much as you do, I fancy. Why could 
you not have admitted me into your confidence, 
Grace ? How long is it since you began to think 
me qnfit to be trusted ? ” 


THE COJVJVAVS. 


159 


^‘Why, Ned Conway! What a way to talk!” 
Grace stared at her brother in astonishment. It had 
not occurred to her that he would care particularly 
to know her plan for Helen, or that he might feel as 
if he had not been treated fairly. 

“ I wonder if you would be pleased, Grace, were 
I to have secrets from you ? ” 

“Why, no ; not if they amounted to anything.” 

“ Is that it.? You can wear your old cloak and 
make any number of sacrifices for another, but I 
must not be allowed to help or even to know anything 
about it. It seems to me that I have a right to know 
such things.” 

“ Have you a right, Ned.? ” asked Grace, earnestly. 
“ If it only concerned me, there would be no doubt 
about it; but it concerns Helen, and she is sensitive.^ 
Does Rob know .? ” 

“Only so much as I told him, nothing about the 
cloak. ” 

“ How did you find out.? ” 

“Put two and two together half a dozen times,” 
replied Ned, with a laugh. “I begun to have suspi¬ 
cions when I saw your old parasol, and heard that 
someone had sent money to Helen for drawing-les¬ 
sons. When I saw you fixing over your cloak, my 
suspicions were aroused again, and I said to myself, 

‘ something will happen before long I ’ Then I heard 
Helen say, one day, ‘ you must be sure to send me 
word every week while I am away ; ’ and I saw you 
motion to her to be careful, or I should hear. So one 
thing led to another, and yesterday I heard Mrs. 
Dayne tell mother that jt did not seem possible that 


i6o 


THE CONWAYS, 


Helen was to leave for New York in one week. I 
had heard her talk about the Cooper Institute there, 
and how much she wished to go, and nothing more 
was needed. I communicated to Rob and we formed 
our plans. He had happened to hear you and mother 
wondering if you could get ready for a surprise party 
next Wednesday, and we knew at once why the 
party was to be given.” 

‘‘ What a detective you would make, Ned ! ” ex¬ 
claimed Grace, admiringly. 

“I prefer to confine my talents in that direction to 
the family circle,” replied Ned. “Grace, why didn’t 
you tell me } ” 

“Because of Helen, for one reason,” replied 
Grace. 

“Give another reason. I see there is one.” 

“It is not easily given, Ned.” 

“Why not.? ” 

“It—it makes me appear to praise myself,” re¬ 
plied Grace, with a blush. “Please, Ned, let us 
drop the subject.” 

“You dear, generous, little sister ! Do you think 
I am going to let you be the only unselfish daughter 
of this house.? Not if I have to be half a dozen 
daughters myself! ” 

Ned spoke half in earnest, half in fun, as he often 
did when deeply affected; but he had thrown one 
arm around Grace and was caressing her with a 
tenderness quite unusual to even his affectionate 
nature. 

“It does not seem an unselfish thing to do now 
everyone knows of it,” replied Grace. “I shall 


THE CONWAYS. 


i6i 


always feel, now, as if I wanted others to know 
all the while. ” 

“You little goose ! No one knows but me, and 
I shall not tell. Fm going to help you, however.” 

“Oh, no, Ned ! Helen is so sensitive ! ” 

“Helen need know nothing about it. No one 
need know but just you and me.” 

“It can’t be so,” replied Grace, quickly. “I 
should not be happy one minute, Ned, to seem to do 
more than I am doing.” 

“ But if no one is to know-” 

“I shall know. Besides, there is mother-” 

“Yes, here is mother.? What about her.?” said 
a pleasant voice, and Mrs. Conway laid a hand on 
the head of each child. 

“Darlings,” she said, softly, “mother sees her 
prettiest picture, now. God grant that my children 
may never be less closely united. What were you 
talking about when I came in .? ” 

“Mamma, Ned has found out about everything ! 
I never saw such a boy.” 

“ He must be remarkable to find out about every¬ 
thing, at his age. ” 

“Everything about Helen, I mean, and the cloak 
and the surprise party.” 

“ I’ll teach folks to keep seerets from me !” ex¬ 
claimed Ned, pinching his sister’s ear. 

“And he insists on paying part of Helen’s ex¬ 
penses-” 

“ Keep still, can’t you ! ” exclaimed Ned. 

“No, sir, I cannot. Mamma must know every¬ 
thing. Mamma what ought I to do.?” 





i 62 


THE CONWAYS. 


“She ought to listen to me, ought she not, 
mother ? 

“What do you propose, Ned?” asked Mrs* 
Conway. 

“To pay one-half the sum that Grace has advanced 
with which to pay Helen’s expenses, and go without 
something. If Grace can afford to dress shabbily I 
surely can, having such an advantage in natural 
beauty-” 

“Silence, young man!” Grace held her hand¬ 
kerchief over Ned’s mouth. “ Listen to mother.” 

“Grace cannot very well explain to Helen, 
Ned-” 

“Why should she?” interrupted Ned. “This is 
a little business which will concern only us.” 

“You know, Ned, I have only lent the money 
to Helen.” 

“Very well; then I’ll lend half the amount to you. 
You may give me a note payable when Helen pays 
you. ” 

“ I think that would be fair, Grace,” said Mrs. 
Conway; “ and if Ned wants to help, he surely 
should be given the privilege.” 

“Mother, ought not Grace to tell me when she 
thinks of doing anything like that ? Why shouldn’t 
I know about it as well as you ? ” 

“Would you take Grace into your confidence to 
such an extent, my son ? ” 

“You know I would, mother. I tell her every¬ 
thing.” 

“But Ned,” said Grace, “I did not want to ask 
you to deny yourself-” 




THE CONWAYS, 


163 

“You might have said so/' interrupted her 
brother. “I think I should have understood. Try 
me, hereafter, please, before jumping to a conclusion 
that I should not." 

“Ned, you make me appear just as iff thought 
myself more unselfish than anyone else." 

“I don't know what you think; but you have 
expressed my thought of you pretty well. That is 
absolutely the last compliment I shall pay you, 
young lady ! I should never have thought to help 
Helen ; but I am glad you thought of it, and I don’t 
want you to get so far away from me that I can’t 
have the benefit of your thoughts." 

Grace put up her lips for a kiss. “You are the 
nicest brother in the whole world ! ’’ she said, softly, 
then ran to help her mother," who had left the room 
some moments before, quite sure that her children 
could arrive at a satisfactory decision without any 
help, except what they found in their love for 
each other. 


164 


THE CONWAYS, 


CHAPTER XL 

The entertainment which Grace had planned was 
called a “Dickens Social.” The young people had 
been obliged to work very hard to get ready for 
it, but it proved even more successful than the 
first had been, and the members of the V. 1. A. were 
accordingly in the best of spirits. There were few 
of the residents of the village who had not become 
interested in the V. I. A., and also in the little paper, 
which was so full of enthusiasm on the subject of vil¬ 
lage improvements. At first there were few who be¬ 
lieved the young people could raise the money with 
which to purchase the property for the park; now, 
there were few who doubted it. 

“ People are so interested,” said Rob, “that I be¬ 
lieve they would attend any sort of entertainment 
given for that purpose, let it be ever so poor. ” 

“We’ll always give them their money’s worth, for 
all that,” replied Ned, “ and they’ll have to acknowl¬ 
edge it; we are not beggars, but business-like indi¬ 
viduals. ” 

The Dickens Social was the last of the entertain¬ 
ments which Helen expected to attend for some 
weeks. The next day Grace went over to help her 
pack her trunk, and to have a good old-fashioned 
visit with her, uninterrupted by the remarks of a third 


THE CONWAYS. 


165 

party. All four of the Conway young people were 
to escort her to the depot in the evening, but the 
two friends decided that their real, good-bye talk must 
be had alone. 

“ I didn't think it would be so hard, Grace, dear, " 
said Helen, seating herself on the floor beside her 
half-filled trunk and clasping her hands over her 
knees. “ If mother and you could go, too-" 

“ We'll keep until you return ! " interrupted Grace, 
with a light laugh. 

“Mother isn’t strong," replied Helen. “She never 
complains, but I can see that every day she finds it 
harder to do her work." 

“It is dreadful for her to be obliged to do such 
work!" exclaimed Grace. “It is because of her, 
Helen, that you ought to be glad instead of sorry 
that you are going to New York." 

“I am glad, but I can’t help but think of poor 
mother here all alone. Grace, what would she do if 
she were to be taken sick in the night, without me 
to help her } It does not seem right for me to leave 
her alone." 

“ I wonder if she would allow me to sleep here.? " 

“ I think not. She says you have already done 
too much. Grace, my dear friend, do you suppose 
I don’t know what the made-over cloak means.? ’’ 

“You think you do, I presume," replied Grace, 
demurely; “but you are not half so wise as you 
might be ! If you think I am making any great sac¬ 
rifice on your account, please dismiss the idea at 
once, for I am not." Grace was glad, now, that Ned 
had insisted on helping, because she could say this 



THE CONWAYS. 


166 

with greater truthfulness. She was too generous to 
want another to bear a load of indebtedness because 
she had been able to give a little assistance. ‘' I do 
hope, Helen,” she added, quickly changing the sub¬ 
ject, ‘Hhat you will learn rapidly, so as to relieve 
your mother as soon as possible. ” 

‘‘And yet, Grace, you don’t know half what she 
has been obliged to endure. The hard work, so dif¬ 
ferent from that to which she had been accustomed, 
has not been half so hard to bear as the cruelty of 
some who used to be glad to call themselves her 
friends. Then the anxiety regarding the future. I 
didn’t know half how dark life looked to her, until 
you made it possible for me to go away to study. I 
think I could not have decided to leave, had I not 
known how much relief the idea has given her. She 
has talked to me very freely since then. I have 
always loved my mother dearly, Grace, but I some¬ 
times think I have nqt known half how noble she 
is ! I wish she had allowed me to share more of 
her sorrows, as well as her joys ; but her generous 
heart could not bear that I should have more care 
than that which naturally fell to my lot in our altered 
circumstances, and she has kept much from me that 
I should have known.” 

The conversation left both girls unusually serious, 
and their leave-taking at Helen’s door showed none 
of the girlish sentiment which characterized that at 
the depot a few hours later. 

“If you shed a tear,” said Ned, threateningly, 
“we will wipe it away before the crowd ! Rob, you 
watch Grace, and I’ll keep an eye on Helen.” 


THE CONWAYS. 


167 


The boys had prepared for this bit of nonsense, 
and immediately began pulling so many handker¬ 
chiefs from so many different pockets, that a smile 
of amusement came into the faces of the spectators 
in the little waiting-room, which swelled into a hearty 
laugh when Ned drew a towel from his vest, and 
took his place beside Helen. 

“Boys, behave yourselves ! commanded Grace, 
in a low tone. “You are attracting attention.” 

“ So were you,” said Rob, “when you hung on 
each other like babes in the woods ! Let go of 
Helen’s hand, Grace ! If you don’t you’ll be sorry, ” 

“Don’t pay any attention to him!” said Zana. 
“I don’t believe he dares do any worse than he has 
done.” 

“Don’t he, though.?” Rob took Helen’s other 
hand and held it with an air so ludicrously senti¬ 
mental that a wave of laughter again went round 
the room. 

“Rob, let me alone,” said Helen, trying to disen¬ 
gage her hand. 

“When Grace drops your other hand,” replied 
Rob, coolly. It is needless to add that Rob won 
his point. 

The train came puffing in. Rob caught up valise 
and lunch basket and rushed into the car. Ned 
caught Helen by the arm and hurried her out of the 
waiting-room without allowing her to kiss the girls 
good-bye, and in two minutes she was whirled away 
out of sight. The through trains seldom stopped 
long at the little village, and the boys were never 
more pleased, for they had decided that it would be 


THE CONWAYS, 


168 

better for all concerned if they could manage to pre¬ 
vent a “ scene ! ” 

When Helen found time to collect herself, she dis¬ 
covered a box of candies on the seat beside her, 
marked “Compliments from Rob,” and a copy of 
Tennyson’s poems, on the flyleaf of which was 
written, “To Helen, from Ned.” 

“Dear, thoughtful boys ! ” she whispered. “They 
are awfully annoying, sometimes ; but they do much 
to make the world joyous ! ” 

“I am not going home, just yet,” said Grace, as 
her companions turned away from the depot. “You 
go on, please.” 

“Are you going to see Mrs. Dayne” inquired 
Ned. 

“Yes.” 

“I am glad. She must be feeling very lonely. If 
there is anything I can do to help, be sure to offer 
my services.” 

“Grace thinks of everyone but herself,”-said Rob, 
when she had left them. 

“ Did you ever see a girl like her ! ” exclaimed 
Ned, proudly. 

“I never did.” 

Zana listened, and a feeling of envy crept into her 
heart. 

“Everyone loves Grace and praises her,” she 
thought, “but if I were to do just as much as she 
docs, no one would take the least notice. It is easy 
to do nice things when one knows they will be 
appreciated. ” 

Zana’s great complaint, both to herself and to 


THE CONWAYS. 


169 


others was that she was not appreciated as she 
should be, yet she could not see that the trouble 
really lay in herself. She had an exaggerated idea 
of her own good qualities, although she did not 
make herself offensive by saying so. If others did 
not accept her at her own valuation, according to 
her way of thinking, they were to be blamed and 
she was to be pitied. 


THE CONWA VS, 


170 


CHAPTER XIL 

At the close of the sixth entertainment given by 
the members of the V. 1. A., an informal meeting was 
held in the office of the “ Oakwood Transcript/' 

“We have just two hundred and thirty-seven 
dollars,” said Ned. “That will leave thirty-seven 
dollars after making the first payment on the park 
property. We have another payment of one hun¬ 
dred and fifty dollars to make, and then the land is 
ours. Shall we apply the thirty-seven dollars on 
that payment, or put it into the bank until the rest 
of it is raised ? ” 

A vote was taken, and it was decided to put the 
money into the bank, and continue the weekly en¬ 
tertainments, at least until the holidays. It was now 
the tenth day of November. 

“I think our entertainments will be popular,”said 
Grace, “as long as we can manage to have some¬ 
thing different each time. We must keep everybody 
curious. Should we be obliged to repeat one enter¬ 
tainment, I believe we should have a much smaller 
attendance at our next.” 

“It seems to me,” said Roger Windom, “that it is 
about time for the members of this association to ask 
the proprietors of the ‘Oakwood Transcript' to 
render a bill for services. ” 


THE CONWAYS. 


171 

“Put that in the form of a motion,” suggested 
Willard Brown. 

“No, you don’t,” exclaimed Ned. “The proprie¬ 
tors of the ‘ Oakwood Transcript,’ which, by the 
way, is the best paper published this side of the 
Rocky Mountains, don’t want pay for what they 
have done.” 

“ It isn’t fair to make you do so much more than 
the rest are doing,” protested Nellie Raleigh. “It 
must cost a great deal to get out that paper, and we 
could not advertise our entertainments half so well 
without it.” 

“The business manager of the ‘ Oakwood Tran¬ 
script ’ is proud to say that the paper is paying its 
own expenses ! ” replied Ned. 

“Does it pay you for your time, also,” asked 
Nellie. 

“Not yet, but it will, soon.” 

“What we do is only fun !” interposed Grace. 
“Ned and I have always liked editing papers, even 
when the printing had to be done with our pens ; 
but we like it very much better, now that we have 
a purpose ; so, you see, we are to be envied, not 
pitied. ” 

“You are at least entitled to the gratitude of the 
rest of the association,” began James Raleigh. 

“If you think so,” interrupted Ned, “persuade 
your father to advertise ! ” 

“Ned believes in deeds, not words,” said Mamie 
Raleigh, with a laugh. “I am with you, Ned, in 
that respect, and I’ll give father no rest until he pays 
for advertising space in your paper. ” 


172 


THE CONWAYS. 


“ I don’t know but I might do a little work in that 
direction,” said Roger Windom. “ I do not seem to 
be able to help much anywhere else. If the paper 
is necessary to the work of this association, and I 
help the paper, why isn’t that just as well as to stand 
around at an entertainment where I’m always in the 
way ? ” 

“You are awfully in the way when there are nails 
to be driven, and decorations to arrange, aren’t you, 
Roger ? ” asked Grace. 

Roger blushed with pleasure, and, for a little 
while, forgot to be awkward and ill at ease. He 
was very bashful, and could not take a creditable 
part in the entertainments ; but his services were 
quite indispensable when preparations for them were 
to be made. Grace had the happy faculty of know¬ 
ing just how to put awkward people at their ease. 
Such a faculty brings more friends to a girl than the 
ability to play difficult music, or to embroider, or 
paint pictures, or dance, and it seems strange that 
there should be so many girls who do not consider 
it worth their, while to try to develop it. 

To the young people of Oakwood, it seemed as if 
the weeks had wings, so quickly did they disappear. 
Rob and Zana were to have gone home in Novem¬ 
ber, but were granted permission to stay with their 
cousins until after Christmas. The last of the series 
of entertainments was to be given on the twenty- 
second of December, and on the twenty-sixth they 
were to return to the city, accompanied by Grace 
and Ned. 

In the columns of the “ Oakwood Transcript ” the 


THE CONWAYS. 


173 


following notice appeared : We regret to be obliged 
to inform our readers that a great disappointment is 
in store for them. It is one which might, possibly, 
be averted, did it seem best to have it so ; but dis¬ 
appointments are good for us all, in that they de¬ 
velop human character and prevent it from growing 
lop-sided with gratification. So, dear readers, try to 
take the bitter dose as you would take disagreeable 
medicine, which you know to be a sure cure for 
baldness or obesity ! Here it is : The ‘ Oakwood 
Transcript ’ will discontinue publication during the 
month of January, while the editor and business 
manager seek relaxation from the cares of business 
in the whirl and gayety of city life. They promise, 
on their return, to send out a paper so much better 
than any yet issued, that the readers cannot help 
but realize that their loss has really been to them a 
great gain. This is as good a place as any in the 
paper to make the announcement that no more en¬ 
tertainments will be given by the members of the 
V. I. A., until the evening of the fifteenth of February. 
In the name of my co-laborers, I extend thanks to 
all who have attended our entertainments so regu¬ 
larly, and given up so much of their wealth without 
a struggle. It has been a source of great joy to us 
that we were not obliged to use force to extract the 
dimes, as we had fully decided to do, had we found 
ourselves unable to obtain them by any other means. 
We believe there is not a person in this village who 
will not rejoice to hear that the park property is paid 
for and has been formally accepted by the village 
council, The V. I. A. has seventy-five dollars in the 


174 


THE CONWAYS. 


bank towards the village improvements which they 
contemplate making, and of which more will be 
said in future numbers of this paper. Subscribe at 
once for the best paper ever printed ! Only fifty 
cents a year ! You cannot afford to live without 
it ! ! ! No home is complete, no office is furnished, 
that does not receive its regular visits. If business 
is dull with you, you may be confident that it is 
because you have not advertised in the ‘ Oakwood 
Transcript’ I say this in a spirit of the purest dis¬ 
interestedness. ‘ Homo sum ; humani nihil a me 
alienum puto.’ If you are in doubt as to the mean¬ 
ing of that last sentence, rest assured, had it never 
been put in the back part of Webster’s Dictionary it 
could not have graced this column, and you may 
easily translate it : 


“Ned Conway, 

“Business manager of the ‘Oakwood Transcript.’” 

Grace had tried to convince Ned that his leading 
article, as he called it, would be improved by some 
changes ; but in vain. Ned insisted that it was a 
triumph of journalism, and must be printed without 
revision. Following Ned’s article was one from 
Rob’s pen, which we will copy: 

‘ ‘ We are about to rend the ties which bind us to 
the ‘Oakwood Transcript’ We, means my sister 
and myself The ties mentioned are invisible. The 
rending will not be accompanied by sound. Its 
effect will be tremendous. We hope, however, that 
^ the paper will not suffer long in consequence. We 


THE CONWAYS. 


175 


know that we shall be missed, for the countenance 
of the writer is not easily forgotten, and Zana has 
the honor to be his sister. We humbly ask your 
forgiveness for any action on our part that may have 
given offence ; knowing that all will agree that there 
is nothing to forgive. We thank you for the pleas¬ 
ure you have given us during our stay here and 
hope we may meet again at no distant day. In 
conclusion, it is but fair to state that, if Zana knew 
this was being written, and her name would be 
signed to it, it is barely possible she might insist on 
having it worded differently. ‘ Where ignorance is 
bliss, it is folly to be wise.’ That is a sentiment 
which is deeply rooted in the hearts of yours truly, 

‘ ‘ Rob and Zana Conway. ” 

A box of Christmas gifts arrived from the city a 
day or two before Christmas, and was taken in 
charge by Mrs. Conway. On Christmas Eve, Rob 
and Zana hung up their stockings for the first time 
in nearly six years. The members of the V. I. A. had 
been invited to an informal progressive party, where 
every game the house afforded was made to do duty. 
There were ''authors,” "dominoes,” " backgam^ 
mon,” "checkers,” " tiddledy-winks,” "fish-pond,” 
and a host of others. The party was divided into 
couples, and drew slips of paper from a box, to 
decide at which table the different couples must 
begin to play. The victorious parties at each table 
progressed to the next, and there was a general 
change of partners. After playing at every table, 
the winning couples shot at a mark with a little 


176 


THE CONWAYS. 


parlor pistol having a rubber-tipped arrow, to see 
who could make the best record. There was plenty 
of variety, and any amount of fun, and the evening 
passed so quickly that everyone was surprised when 
Mr. Conway announced that it was time for prizes 
to be awarded to the two who had made most pro¬ 
gressions, as well as to the unfortunate couple who 
had made fewest. Simple refreshments were then 
served, and the guests departed. 

Then came a merry half-hour in which the differ¬ 
ent members of the Conway family decided where 
their stockings should be hung. 

“You must remember, children," said Mr. Con¬ 
way, “that my present to you went into the print¬ 
ing-press." 

“We remember,” said Grace; “but we also re¬ 
member that mamma’s did not” 

“ Let us be thankful for that ! ” exclaimed Ned, 
standing back to view his socks, both of which he 
had hung to a chair-back, directly over a large, 
pasteboard box, on the inside of which was written : 
“For the overflow.” 

“Wouldn’t it be sad, Ned, if those nice large socks 
of yours should be as empty in the morning as they 
are now ? ” 

“Don’t mention it, Grace! The very thought 
makes me weep. Mother, relieve my anxiety ; have 
you something to put into my stocking } ” 

“ Yes, my son.” 

“Bless your dear little heart I Would you mind 
telling rne the initial letter? ” 


THE CONWAYS. 


177 


‘‘I can tell you the entire name ; it is a darning- 
needle/’ 

There was a shout of laughter at Ned’s expense, 
which he feigned not to hear. Lifting his mother into 
his arms, he carried her to a closet, and shut her in. 

“You may remain there,” he said, sternly, “until 
you are sorry for having hurt the feelings of your 
only son.” 

“ I am sorry now, Ned,” she replied. 

‘ ‘Sure ? ” 

“Oh, very sure ! ” 

“It is wonderfully kind in me to let you out so 
soon,” he said opening the door. “You must be 
very careful, madam, for it is not at all likely that I 
can let you off so easily another time.” 

The happy family then made themselves comfort¬ 
able for their usual Christmas Eve talk : —Grace 
perched on her father’s knee, Ned and his mother on 
a sofa near them. 

“ Sit closer to me, mother,” he said, throwingt)ne 
arm around his mother’s shoulder. “Now, Rob, 
there is plenty of room for you and Zana on this 
sofa beside us. ” 

Mrs. Conway took Zana’s hand in hers, and began 
at once to tell a pretty German story of the Christ 
child, which she had committed for that purpose. 
Mr. Conway had a Christmas poem to recite, and 
so did both the children ; then all joined in singing 
Christmas carols, after which a delightful hctur was 
spent in earnest conversation about the life of Christ, 
what it was meant to teach, and how each had 
found it helpful during the past year. 

12 


178 


THE CONWAYS. 


When Rob and Zana went to bed that night, 
they were conscious of an influence of a more up¬ 
lifting nature than anything they had ever known, 
and a little feeling of self-pity that they could not be 
more intimately connected with a home-life so beau¬ 
tiful as that which their cousins enjoyed. The next 
day was one long delight to them, and they con¬ 
fessed to their cousins that it had been the happiest 
Christmas day of their lives. 

“I never before realized,” said Zana, ‘‘ how much 
of beauty belongs to this day. Rob and I go to 
church regularly, but for all that I do believe we are 
but little better than the heathen. There have been 
times when we have actually dreaded the approach 
of Christmas, because we could not send as expen¬ 
sive gifts to our acquaintances as others in our set 
were enabled to do.” 

“A beautiful plant has started to grow,” thought 
Mrs. Conway, ‘ ‘ but I fear it will be neglected in the 
life of frivolity to which Zana is returning. I wish I 
might keep her here a little longer. ” 

“I think it is wicked to give presents in that 
spirit,” replied Grace. “We give only to the poor, 
or to those whom we love very dearly. If we wish 
to make a present to an acquaintance, we do so on 
a birthday or some other anniversary, but never on 
Christmas. Mother,” she said, suddenly changing 
the subject, “ is it in order for me to try on my new 
cloak once more .? ” 

As Grace asked the question she whirled around 
to display her fine new astrachan to the best advan¬ 
tage. 


THE CONWAYS. 


179 

“Why do you ask when you already have the 
cloak on ? 

“ Simply that she might know whether she is out 
of order or not,” said Rob. 

Everyone was very indulgent on this occasion, 
and quite happy over Grace’s childish delight in her 
new cloak, which, with a muff to match, were found 
fastened to her Christmas stocking, bearing a card 
on which was written: “With best of Christmas 
wishes to Grace from Mother, Ned, Rob, and Zana,” 

“I must make a little confession, children,” said 
Mrs. Conway. “Your father remembered his prom¬ 
ise not to buy any Christmas gifts for you, but he 
gave me more money than usual to spend as I 
pleased.” 

“Of course he did!” exclaimed Grace. “That 
is just like papa. Ned and I will have to publish so 
fine a paper when we come home, that he will be 
glad every minute to think he bought the printing- 
press. ” 

‘ ‘ Oh dear ! ” groaned Ned. “ If father could only 
remember to do simply what is for our good, we 
should be relieved of a great deal of exertion ! Now 
we must try extra hard to acquit ourselves creditably. 
Father, you are unjust and unkind to keep us forever 
under bonds of gratitude. ” 

The father smiled, and placed his hand caressing¬ 
ly on Ned’s shoulders, and a look of perfect confi¬ 
dence passed between them. 


iSo 


THE CONWAYS. 


CHAPTER XIII. 

On the morning of their departure for the city, 
the members of the V. L A. went to the depot in a 
body, to bid the four young Conways good-bye. 

“Don’t be gone long!” they said to Grace and 
Ned, “ or we shall stagnate I ” 

“Dear children,” began Ned in the most fatherly 
tone he could command, “ it pains us to be obliged 
to leave you, even for a little while; but we do it 
only for your good. Oakwood will, one day, be a 
great and flourishing city, in need of the improve¬ 
ments that are the pride of similar cities ; and how 
can its representative paper, the ‘ Oakwood Tran¬ 
script,’ speak intelligently of needed improvements if 
its editor and publisher know nothing of the improve¬ 
ments made in other cities } It has just occurred to 
me, dear children, that, had you been as public-' 
spirited as you should be, you would have offered to 
pay all our expenses, as a slight token of your ap¬ 
preciation of the cause which takes us away from 
you.” 

“Convince us that you go for no other reason* 
than our good, and we may yet make the offer,” re¬ 
plied Nellie Raleigh. 

“All aboard 1 ” shouted the conductor. The boys 


THE CONWAYS. 


l8l 


helped their sisters into the car, and obliged them to 
do their leave-taking through the open window. 

“We have dedicated our lives/’ exclaimed Rob, 
“to an attempt to crush sentimentality in the female 
sex.” 

“Bring Rob and Zana back with you ! ” called 
Willard Brown to Ned. 

“Especially Zana!” added James Raleigh, at 
which there was a merry laugh among the teasing 
young people, who had not failed to take note of 
Willard’s partiality for Zana’s companionship. 

There were a few hasty words of parting which 
might have been spoken before, but were not; which 
need not have been spoken at all, but were. Theii 
came an almost deafening ringing of engine bells, 
above which could be heard the cheering of hearty, 
boyish voices. The train moved slowly away from 
the little depot, the crowd of merry faces, the waving 
handkerchiefs disappeared from view ; faster and 
faster the familiar rocks and hills and trees rushed 
past the car window, and soon Ned and Grace were 
looking with eager eyes for evidences that they were 
really travelling away from home out into a new and 
untried world. To Rob and Zana, who had seen 
many of our large cities, this twenty-four hour ride 
to Chicago, was thought of only as a somewhat dis¬ 
agreeable task, to be lived through as comfortably 
as possible, and they were inclined to regard Ned 
and Grace in a manner quite patronizing. They 
could not understand their cousins’ eager delight in 
all that was passing around them, nor the curiosity 
which kept them continually watching for bits of 


82 


THE CONWA YS. 


scenery different from anything they had ever seen. 
Rob and Zana had become travellers at so young an 
age that they could not remember when they had 
been curious about anything. 

“ Let us pretend that we are travelling in Rome,” 
suggested Grace. 

‘‘Can’t; there is no snow in Rome,” replied Ned- 

“ That is a fact, my dear. I did not mean Rome 
at all, but Greenland.” 

“All right. I see an iceberg sitting on this side 
of the car, next to the front seat.” 

“ Oh, Ned, that is mean ! Let us mention places, 
not people.” 

“ I am deep in the study of human nature just at 
present, ” answered Ned. “I am seriously thinking of 
writing a serial story for the ‘Oak wood Transcript.’” 

“You write a serial story!” Grace spoke quite 
scornfully. “ I should like to read it when it was 
finished. ” 

“You shall have the privilege. I will give you an 
extract now. On the left side of the parlor car sat 
the young couple. The reclining chairs were drawn 
so closely together that not one tender word could 
drop to the floor between them ; so closely together 
were they drawm that the cooing occupants thereof 
might feel the beating of each other’s heart-” 

“How can that be, Ned.?” interrupted Grace. 
“Is his heart on the left side, and hers on the right.? ” 

Ned stared in amazement. 

“ Grace,” he said, “ you are on the brink of a great 
discovery ! Dare you go further.? Think well be¬ 
fore attempting it. My novel was worded after the 



THE CONWAYS. 


183 

pattern of other novels, therefore it cannot be wrong. 
Cooing couples are always represented as being heart 
to heart, and no one, before you, has thought to in¬ 
vestigate. ” 

“ Ned,” said Zana, “you are horribly silly.” 

“Zana rushes to the defence of the novelists!” 
exclaimed Rob. “I wonder, Ned, if I could catch 
a glimpse of that couple without appearing to stare } ” 

“You can. Their sweet faces are turned towards 
the front end of the car. She rests her head on his 
shoulder, and one great scarlet ear is doubled up in 
consequence. His arm is around her corset. It is 
a picture which Zana would call ‘ too awfully sweet 
for any use,’ if the motion of the car did not disturb 
it so cruelly.” ^ 

“ I presume they are married,” said Grace. “Just 
wait, Ned, until you have a wife, then we will 
see-” 

“ When that time comes, age will have made you 
too blind to see anything ; but if I had a hundred 
wives, I wouldn’t act so silly as that fellow does 1 I 
should think people would have more self-respect 
than to make such a spectacle in public. ” 

‘' Do you think it is a case of sour grapes with 
Ned.?” asked Zana of Grace, pretending to speak 
confidentially. 

“ I’m afraid it is. Poor old Ned 1 ” 

“What’s that .?” demanded Ned. 

“Nothing, Ned; nothing at all,” replied Grace, 
soothingly. 

“Will you take it all back.?” he asked, clasping 
the fingers of one hand around her neck. 



THE CONWAYS. 


184 

“Ned!” she whispered. “Don’t attract atten¬ 
tion.” 

“ Will you take-” 

“Yes, yes ! anything, if you will only behave 
yourself. ” 

' ‘ Really, Ned,” expostulated Zana, ' ‘ you must not 
romp now.” 

“I should like to know why not 1 Is not Grace 
my sister, and what else are sisters good for.? ” 

“ We are not in a little country village, now ; we 
shall soon be in the city, and city young people do 
not romp as you have been in the habit of doing. ” 

“ Do I understand that, for the next month, I am 
to go around as if I wore a strait-jacket.? ” 

“Why, of course not. We are going to have lots 
of excitement while you are with us, but it will be of 
a different kind from that to which you have been 
accustomed.” 

“I want to know!” exclaimed Ned through his 
nose, and looking as boorish as possible. “ We are 
to be shown the lions, I suppose. Lawk-a-daisy ! 
Won’t it be great ! ” 

“Ned, what does possess you !” said Grace. 

“I was just thinking,” he replied, a sparkle of 
mischief in his eyes, “that while you and I were 
seeing the lions we might return the favor by giving 
them an unvarnished view of rusticity. I think I’ll 
be a cowboy while I’m in Chicago ; you know I can 
command a beautiful yell, and the way I whistle 
through my fingers is truly marvelous. Have you 
forgotten, Zana .? ” 

Ned placed both hands to his mouth, as if he 



THE CONWAYS. 185 

meant to give an illustration of his accomplishments, 
but Grace quickly pulled them away. 

“Ned,” she said, softly, “please don’t. Zana is 
really annoyed, and I don’t wonder at it.” 

“Forgive me, Zana!” exclaimed Ned, quickly. 
“ I only wanted to tease you a little ; why should you 
be more teased to-day than you would have been 
yesterday ? ” 

‘ ‘ Because the circumstances are different, ” replied 
Zana, looking out of the window to hide the angry 
tears in her eyes. “ I almost know you will do some¬ 
thing to shock my friends while you are in Chicago, 
just because you would rather tease me than to eat.” 

“ Pshaw, Zana, you are silly ! ” said Rob. 

“I may do something to shock your city friends,” 
replied Ned, laughing, “because I have never been 
a city friend myself, and consequently do not know 
what is expected of me. Could you not give me 
private lessons, Zana } How far back must I stick 
my right foot when I bow ; or does the left foot go 
back while the right supports me .? If you will teach 
me I’ll agree-” 

“Ned, please don’t,” whispered Grace. 

“I’m horrid, Gracie I I’ll be good, if I have to 
hold my tongue between my thumb and finger from 
here to Chicago.” 

“Paper.?” inquired the newsagent, at that mo¬ 
ment. 

“Have you the ‘Oakwood Transcript’.?” asked 
Ned. 

“ Never heard of such a paper.” 

“I read no other literature,” said Ned, putting his 
purse back into his pocket. 



i86 


THE CONWAYS. 


Zana was obliged to smile, notwithstanding her 
very evident desire to keep serious, and the momen¬ 
tary unpleasantness between them was forgotten. 

“Twenty-two hours since we saw mother ! ” ex¬ 
claimed Grace, the next morning. * 

“In about two hours and a half we shall be at 
home,” replied Rob. 

“Zana, aren’t you very glad .? ” asked Grace. “I 
have just been thinking how nice it will seem to me, 
in a month from now, to see papa and mamma and 
the dear old home again.” 

“I believe she is already beginning to be home¬ 
sick ! ” exclaimed Zana, and she and Rob laughed 
merrily ; but Ned gave his sister’s hand an affection¬ 
ate little squeeze. 

“I am not homesick,” protested Grace,'“and I 
would not go back if I could, until my visit is over ; 
but I can’t help thinking how lonely papa and 
mamma must be without us. Ned and I have not 
been away from home for one night since we visited 
grandpa and grandma nearly five years ago.” 


THE CONWAYS, 


187 


CHAPTER XIV. 

The four young Conways alighted from the hack, 
and ascended the steps leading to the front door of 
one of the houses in a stylish row of tenements. 

“ Here we are ! exclaimed Rob, ringing the door¬ 
bell. 

Grace looked about her curiously. “Not a blade 
of grass or an inch of dooryard/’ she thought, “ and 
the neighbors crowding close on every side ! It 
stifles me.’' 

“ Anything,” thought Ned, who was also taking 
mental notes, “ anything but to live in a house tied 
to half a dozen houses like a row of paper dolls. I • 
don’t see how a fellow living here can tell whether 
he is himself or one of his neighbors ! ” 

Our friends had plenty of time for their mental criti¬ 
cisms, for Rob was obliged to ring more than once 
before the door was opened. Finally, however, they 
were confronted by a domestic of sullen demeanor 
who let them in after having first observed them 
through the partly-opened door. 

“Oh !” she said, in a tone half apologetic, half 
resentful, “ it is you, is it.? I thought it was an agent 
or something. Agents get around very early nowa- 


i88 


THE CONWAYS. 


“Did you not know we were coming?” asked 
Zana, severely. 

“I didn’t think about this being the day. I had 
other things to think about. ” 

The girl started kitchenward, flinging this last 
remark over her shoulder, but Zana called her back. 

‘ ‘ I did not excuse you, Martha, ” she said. ‘ ‘ Where 

is mother ? ” 

“Down town.” 

“And Aunt Sara ? ” 

“ In bed with toothache ; mustn’t be disturbed.” 

“That is all, Martha ; you may go.” 

Zana spoke pettishly, and Martha gave her a look 
in which there was little love, before turning away. 

“Come, Grace,” continued Zana, “we will go to 
my room. ” 

“And we will go to mine,” said Rob to Ned. 

“I suppose,” added Zana, “that we "shall have 
the pleasure of meeting our affectionate relatives 
when we go down to luncheon.” 

“ Why, Zana ! ” expostulated Grace, “what a way 
to speak of your mother ! ” 

“What a way my mother treats me!” retorted 
Zana. “She is not like your mother, Grace, as I 
have often told you. ” 

“Don’t you love her? Honestly, Zana, you act 
as if you did not.” 

“Oh, I suppose I do,” admitted Zana, flushing. 
“ I should not want her to be sick or in trouble; but 
I can’t feel towards her as you do towards Aunt 
Marie. There are too many times when she aggra¬ 
vates me beyond telling. ” 


THE CONWAYS, 


189 


Grace looked at her cousin in silent astonishment. 
How different she appeared from the fun-loving girl 
who had visited at Oakwood. “I suppose,” she 
thought, “that Zana is grieved because no one ap¬ 
peared to meet us. It is a chilly home-coming for 
the poor child ; but I am sure some very good reason 
must have taken Aunt Eveline away.” 

In the next room Rob and Ned were also talking 
of the mother’s absence. 

“You must not think,” said Rob, “that no one 
will be glad to see us because no one is here to greet 
us. We are not demonstrative here, but we have 
considerable affection for one another, notwithstand¬ 
ing. At your house you make more fuss over the 
return of a member of the family who has been gone 
one day, than we should over the return of one who 
had been absent six months. ” 

“I understand,” replied Ned, pleasantly. “So 

much fuss is not necessary to life-” 

“But it is very pleasant! ” interrupted Rob. “I 
did not know how pleasant until I went to your 
house.” 

“If I am to believe all that the fellows who visit 
me say, there are not many homes like ours ! ” re¬ 
plied Ned, with a happy laugh. “lam pretty well 
satisfied with it, anyhow. ” 

As Ned spoke, he took from his trunk a framed 
photograph of his mother, which he pressed to his 
lips and then placed upon the table. 

“ Did you bring that! ” exclaimed Rob. 

“Why not.? I have been used to it at home, and 
I need it ever so much more when I am where I 


190 


THE CONWAYS. 


cannot see the original. That, my boy, is the pic¬ 
ture of the nicest woman in the world ! 

“What a sentimental old fellow he is ! ” said Rob. 
“One would think you were raving over a sweet¬ 
heart. ” 

“Fiddlesticks ! ” Ned curled his lip disdainfully. 
“Find a sweetheart as nice as my mother is,” he 
said, “and Fll rave over her as long as you want me 
to. You can’t find her, so Fm safe in promising.” 

“ Doubly safe,” replied Rob, “for you would never 
need to make the promise. When I find any one 
like your mother I shall do the raving, and you will 
know nothing about her. Seriously, Ned, I do think 
you have the nicest mother in the world. That 
surprises you, doesn’t it.? Remember that I have 
not said my mother is not nice. She is very at¬ 
tractive and lovable, and I am proud of her; but I 
think she is not quite so motherly as Aunt Marie.” 

By the time the young people had arranged the 
contents of their trunks, and had made themselves 
presentable, after their ride on the cars, the bell rang 
to call them down to luncheon. 

Aunt Eveline was waiting in the sitting-room to 
receive them. 

“Very glad to see you, my dears,” she said, kiss¬ 
ing her children, and giving a cold little hand to 
Ned and Grace. “It is not necessary to ask if my 
young people enjoyed themselves, after having read 
their letters, ” she continued, speaking to no one in 
particular, “so I’ll turn my attention to my nephew 
and niece. My dears, will you pardon a little seem- 
^ing rudeness on my part ? ” 


THE CONWAYS. 


191 

“It will be easy to pardon whatever you may 
wish us to/* replied Ned, gallantly. 

“Bravo, Ned!” exclaimed Rob with laughing 
eyes. “ You will be a courtier in no time 1 ” 

Zana saw that the criticism that lurked in her 
mother’s eyes had been dispelled by Ned’s reply, 
and felt more at ease than she had since that young 
man had announced his intention of assuming the 
role of cowboy. She had feared that her mother 
might take a dislike to Ned, and that he might dis¬ 
cover it, which, in addition to her many superficialities 
(which Zana did not call by that name, but which 
she recognized and was sure Ned would notice), she 
was almost sure would arouse the love of teasing 
that Zana considered Ned’s most prominent char¬ 
acteristic. 

“There is no telling what Ned will do when in a 
teasing mood,” she thought. It was natural to Zana 
to raise up little mental mountains to knock down 
when they could no longer make her uncomfortable. 

“You are prettier than Zana,” said Mrs. Conway, 
looking at Grace critically ; “but you have not the 
least bit of style about you 1 I must train you a 
little, I see.” 

“You are very kind to take so much interest in 
me,” replied Grace, wondering if that were the 
proper thing to say. She was almost afraid of the 
stately lady who did not seem to her one bit like 
a relative. 

“What about New Year?” asked Zana, a little 
later, when they were seated around the table. “Are 
we to have the party .? ” 


192 


THE CONWAYS. 


“We must, I suppose,” replied her mother; “Grace 
and Ned must be introduced in good style. Mrs. 
Morgan will also give a party in their honor, I be¬ 
lieve, and quite a number of card parties are talked of. ” 

Grace listened eagerly, her eyes sparkling with 
pleasure. This was what she had so often longed 
for—to enjoy the pleasures which other young people 
enjoyed. 

“What sort of a party are we to have,” asked 
Rob. 

“ A dancing party, of course. It is more expen¬ 
sive, but there is less chance of the guests being 
bored to death. I sent the last of the invitations 
to-day. ” 

“Was that what called you down town this 
morning.?” 

“No, I wished to make arrangements about dec¬ 
orations.” 

“Couldn’t that have waited half an hour until you 
had welcomed Grace and Ned.? ” asked Rob. 

“ That is just like a boy ! ” exclaimed his mother. 
“As if you did not know that when one is to give 
a party there is danger of neglecting anything for a 
moment. Grace and Ned understand the situation. 
I’m sure, and would much prefer to meet me an hour 
or two later than have me run the risk of being ridi¬ 
culed by all my friends. ” 

Ned looked mystified. He had not heard the con¬ 
versation between Grace and Zana, and did not 
know how unhappy a family could be who had given 
a party which was afterward pronounced, by the 
invited guests, “ a horrid bore,” 


THE CONWAYS. 


193 


^‘How do you like Aunt Eveline?” asked Grace, 
as soon as she and Ned were alone together. 

“ Haven’t decided yet.” 

‘‘Neither have I. Isn’t she pretty ? ” 

“Rather ; she gets herself up in great style.” 

“ Can you realize, Ned, that she is our aunt ? ” 

“I’m sure she is not,” was Ned’s astonishing 
reply. 

“What do you mean ? ” 

“Should I explain, you could not understand 
me.” 

‘ ‘ Oh, wise young man ! Oh, great philosopher ! ” 
exclaimed Grace. 

“Jes’ so!” replied Ned, closing his eyes, and 
assuming an expression of calm enjoyment. “Let 
us have the rest of the titles which fit so well. ” 

“Oh, low-browed idiot-” 

“Silence, madam I Ask my pardon on your 
bended knees ere I strangle-” 

Ned had sprung from his chair, and was endeavor¬ 
ing to force his sister to her knees. 

“Oh, Ned,” she whispered, “please don’t. In¬ 
deed, indeed we must not romp here ; some one 
will hear us.” 

“What if they should ? ” demanded Ned. 

“They would not approve of it at all. Zana 
asked me to speak to you-” 

“Zana acts like a crazy girl. I do not intend to 
romp with her.” 

“ Don’t romp with me while we are here. Aunt 
Eveline thinks it is rude and boisterous and perfectly 
awful in every way, and while we are in her house 

13 





194 


THE CONWAYS. 


we ought to do as she wants us to, don’t you think 
so?” 

‘‘Oh, I suppose so ! ” Ned spoke discontentedly. 
“Now I can give you my opinion of Aunt Eveline. 
She cannot be a real aunt, or a real mother, or a 
real anything else, because she has no heart, soul or 
conscience ! ” 

“Ned, you shall not talk so. She is father’s 
brother’s wife, and I’m sure we can love her if we 
try. She is very different from mother, of course; 
but you know mother says there is something in 
every one worth liking. ” . 

“Let me know when you discover the lovable 
quality in Aunt Eveline. I have not your spiritual 
microscope, and cannot be expected-” 

“Ned,” interrupted Grace, “when I find it, will 
you promise to treat it fairly ? ” 

“I’ll worship it, Princess Grace.’ 



THE CONWAYS, 


195 


CHAPTER XV. 

From the day of their arrival in their uncle's hand¬ 
some home, Ned and Grace found themselves in an 
atmosphere of unrest and excitement such as they 
had never before experienced. Grace was more 
at ease in it than Ned, who told her repeatedly 
that it was all nonsense to make such a fuss over a 
party. 

“But it is to be very different from our parties, 
Ned. This will be just such a party as we have 
read about. ” 

“ I am willing to bet the last dollar I ever expect 
to see that it will not be half as much fun as our 
parties. Rob says it will be dreadful.” 

“And Zana says that Rob is always finding fault 
about her parties, just because he doesn't happen to 
like dancing. By the way, Ned, have you'got that 
waltz step yet } ” 

“No, and never shall get it.” 

“Oh, please try hard! I want you to waltz with 
me. I can do it beautifully. Come, let’s practice 
before the professor gets here. ” 

Mrs. Conway and Zana had decided that Grace 
and Ned must learn to dance, else how could they 
enjoy the party which was to be given in their 
honor ? Our friends had demurred, at first, saying 


THE CONWAYS. 


196 

they were afraid their parents might not be pleased; 
but Zana told them that Aunt Marie had said no 
restrictions were to be placed upon them. 

asked .her paticularly/’ continued Zana, 
‘'knowing that we should want you to learn to 
dance and play cards.” 

“Tell me her reply in her own words,” said 
Grace. 

“As nearly as I can remember, it was this: ‘I 
want my children to enjoy themselves in their own 
way, while they are with you. They are old 
enough to decide such questions for themselves, 
and I shall place no restrictions upon them.’ ” 

“That sounds like mother,” replied Ned, nodding 
his head in approval. “For once, Zana, you seem 
to have been able to quote correctly.” 

Notwithstanding Zana’s assurance of her mother’s 
consent, Grace did not feel quite satisfied with her¬ 
self when she finally told her aunt that she would 
see the dancing-master. 

“ If I could only see mamma alone for one little 
minute,” she thought, “that I might be sure of her 
consent ! I wish I had talked with her about it my¬ 
self, or that I had seen her face when she made 
that reply to Zana. If I could have seen her eyes, 
I should know just what she meant.” 

“When you are in Rome, Grace, you must do as 
the Romans,” said Aunt Sara, who had been watch¬ 
ing Grace’s face while these thoughts were flitting 
through her mind, and who did not scruple to give 
advice which, like that just quoted, is often more 
common than safe. “You need not worry about 


THE CONWAYS. 


197 

what your mother will think,” she continued; 
“when she was in Rome, she became a Roman.” 

“What do you mean, Aunt Sara.? ” asked Grace. 

“‘Your mother danced beautifully when she was 
of your age. I remember her well. She was the 
belle of the ballroom. She is the last person in 
the world who would want her daughter to make 
herself conspicuous by being different from other 
young people.” 

Aunt Sara told many anecdotes of Mrs. Conway’s 
girlhood, some drawn from actual occurrences, 
more from a vivid imagination, and Grace finally 
yielded to the wishes of her aunt and cousin, and 
submitted herself to the training which they con¬ 
sidered necessary for an accomplished society girl 
of the period. Not only did she submit, but she 
became interested. Ned declared that she was 
infatuated, and that he had given her credit for a 
greater amount of common-sense. 

“ I may be infatuated with my dancing lessons,” 
she retorted, “ but how do you find time to notice 
it.? Seems to me most of your time is given to the 
study of the rules of whist.” 

“Well,' what else is there for me to do .? If I try 
to relieve the monotony of sitting around with 
nothing to do, by romping a little, you exclaim, 
‘Oh, Ned, don’t ! We mustn’t play here; it is con¬ 
sidered rude. We really are not children any 
longer, etc., etc., ’ until I’m sick of making the at¬ 
tempt. If I ask you to walk, it is ‘ Oh, I can’t, 
Ned, there is so much to do.’ I haven’t had you to 
myself one half hour since we came here.” 


198 


THE CONWAYS. 


“ I know, Ned, and I'm sorry. Things will be 
different after the party. Please don't let me keep 
you in the house; can’t you walk without me.? ” 

“If we were at home you would not like to have 
me answer'yes to theit question. You know I do 
not enjoy going alone, and Rob is kept in a con¬ 
tinual stew about the party. One would think, to 
hear Aunt Eveline and Zana, that preparations for 
an important battle were being made. ” 

As the time for the party drew nearer, the excite¬ 
ment in the house of Mr. William Conway became 
greater. There were things to be done which no 
one had thought of until it was almost too late to do 
them, and things to be undone which had been done 
without due thought and preparation, and every little 
while something happened which threatened total 
destruction to the best of the arrangements for the 
entertainment of the expected guests, reducing Zana 
and her mother to a state of despair annoying to 
themselves and every member of the family. Plans 
had been made for more extensive preparations 
than Mr. Conway wished to afford, and he scolded 
whenever more money was asked for, which was 
whenever he came into the house ; then Mrs. Con¬ 
way cried, and Zana became cross and sarcastic, 
and Mr. Conway handed out the money and left the 
house, slamming the outside door with such force 
that Aunt Sara went to bed with a fresh attack of 
nervous headache, or backache, or spinal irritation, 
or some other nervous disorder. These attacks were 
frequently preceded by an hysteric fit which some¬ 
times demanded the undivided attention of the entire 


THE CONWAYS. 


199 

household, and, for the first half-dozen times, fright¬ 
ened Grace exceedingly. 

“ I don’t see how she can live and suffer so ! ” she 
whispered to Rob, one day, while bathing Aunt Sara’s 
temples. 

“ She doesn’t suffer enough to be very uncomfort¬ 
able, ” replied Rob, coolly. “She is pretending.” 

Aunt Sara, who was supposed to be unconscious, 
began to cry, and Grace looked at Rob with eyes full 
of indignation. 

“You ought to be ashamed of yourself, ” she said. 

It is needless to say that Aunt Sara found Grace 
very comforting, and managed to keep her busy a 
large share of the time. It was pleasant to her to 
have some one around who could be made to be¬ 
lieve in all her whims, and a great relief to the rest 
of the family, to have the care of her transferred to 
Grace. 

“You will learn your little lesson before long,” 
Rob said to Grace one day when she had found her 
way to the porch for a breath of fresh air, after a 
long attendance upon Aunt Sara. “I hate to have 
your visit spoiled in this way, Grace, else I would 
never mention the subject to you again. Aunt Sara 
is really not half so sick as she makes you think she 
is. She always has these attacks when her assistance 
might be called for. Every party we give is a signal 
to Aunt Sara’s hysterics to make themselves obnox¬ 
ious. She has been worse than usual, this time, be¬ 
cause you sympathize with her. Let her alone, and 
she will be quite well enough to appear at the party ; 
see if she isn’t. Now, don’t look so indignant! I 


200 


THE CONWAYS. 


am telling the truth. You may ask father if it is not 
so.” 

“Ask father if what is not so.?” said Mr. Con¬ 
way, who was just home from his office. 

“I have been telling Grace that Aunt Sara’s at¬ 
tacks are not at all alarming, and that they are 
trotted out for the occasion. Grace has nearly worn 
herself out waiting upon her.” 

“Is it so, uncle.? I can’t believe that anyone 
who is perfectly well would pretend to be sick.” 
“Sarais not perfectly well, any more than the poor 

creature who has formed the morphine habit-” 

“Aunt Sara does not take morphine, does she.? ” 
interrupted Grace. 

“No, but she has formed a habit of going into 
hysterics, which is almost as bad. ” 

“ Why should she have formed such a habit.? ” 

“ She did not have anything better with which to 
occupy her mind. She was a selfish girl, never 
happy unless attracting attention. If she could not 
attract it in one way she would in another. She 
liked to have her own way, as we all do, and soon 
discovered that by having a fit she could get it. Of 
course she did not think that every time she indulged 
in such weakness, she made it more difficult to prac¬ 
tice self-control. I doubt if it would be possible, 
now, for her to control herself” 

“Poor thing! I feel sorry for her, anyhow,” said 
Grace, with tears in her eyes. 

“We should feel sorry for any poor creature who 
has become a slave to a bad habit,” replied Uncle 
William. “We can, however, hardly accord them 



THE CONtVAVS. 


201 


the same measure of respect which we give to those 
whose lives point to nobler purposes. I have not 
spoken so plainly, my dear, to prevent you from 
caring for Sara, but that you may temper your care 
with good judgment, and also in the hope that you 
may learn a helpful lesson from her infirmity.’' 

“Why, uncle ! do you think-” 

“That you need the lesson ^ No, dear ; I see that 
you have a sensible mother. All such lessons are 
good, even if not given a personal application, in 
that they help the learner to exert a more beneficial 
influence. The stronger and better fortified against 
danger you are, the better you can help those less 
fortunate than yourself. You will be a joy to others, 
little girl ; I can see it in your face. ” 

Mr. Conway removed his hat, and held his hand 
to his head for a moment, and Grace noticed how 
much older he looked than her father, although he 
was two years younger. 

“Does your head ache,” she asked. 

“Not much ; just enough to make me nervous,” 
he replied, going into the house. 

‘ ‘ I wonder, ” thought Grace, ‘ ‘ if uncle is not work¬ 
ing too hard. I do not believe he scolds simply 
because he is penurious, as Zana says, but because 
he is tired, sick, and worried. I believe I am going 
to love my Uncle William very dearly. He talked 
ever so much like papa to-day. ” 

Grace’s train of thought was interrupted by a 
servant, who told her that the dressmaker was ready 
for her, and Grace hurried to the sewing-room, where 
a pile, tired little woman was trying to arrange 



20:2 


THE CONWAYS. 


black lace draperies on a pink silk dress to suit Mrs. 
Con way’s critical taste. 

“Here, Grace,” said Mrs. Conway, “please try 
this on, and then we will pin the draperies in 
place.” 

The pink silk was one of Zana’s dresses, which, 
with a little alteration was made to fit Grace very 
nicely. The black lace belonged to Aunt Sara, who 
had loaned it to hide the faded streaks in the 
silk. 

Grace’s cheeks were scarlet as she stood to have 
the dress fitted, and any one who knew her well 
could have seen that she was greatly annoyed. She 
disliked borrowed finery, and had always declared 
that nothing should ever induce her to wear a garment 
which did not belong to her, as long as she had a 
calico gown of her own. But her Aunt Eveline had 
objected so decidedly to the plain black silk dress 
which she had intended to wear to the party, and to 
every other dress she had brought with her, that the 
poor child was greatly perplexed. 

“They are all pretty,” said Aunt Eveline, “and 
they fit you nicely, but none of them are suitable. 
I should have thought your mother would have 
given you a party dress, knowing that you would 
have needed one in the city.” 

“ I buy my -own dresses,” Grace quickly replied. 

“ Is that so ? Then you might better buy material 
for a party dress at once. I think I can get Mrs. 
Smith to come right to the house and make it for 
you. ” 

, “ If you please. Aunt Eveline, I should prefer to 


THE CONWAYS. 


203 

wear one of the dresses I have. I do not feel able 
to purchase a new one.” 

No one can tell, unless she has been in a similar 
position, and is young enough to remember how she 
felt about it, just how much it cost Grace to say that. 
There was never a young girl of her age who loved 
pretty things more than she did, and it was hard 
for her to think of going to her first party dressed so 
differently from other girls who would be there, as 
to be an object of general observation. 

“I wonder why mamma did not mention the party 
dressshe thought. “It has been so long since 
she attended parties that I presume she has forgotten 
what she wore, and perhaps they did not have 
special dresses for parties in those days, but simply 
wore their best ones as we do at home. 

“I might ask papa to lend the money,” ^he said 
slowly, after a little pause in which she tried to ap¬ 
pear more indifferent than she felt. 

Aunt Eveline sat with one finger raised to her lips, 
a habit she had when deep in a plan of ways and—• 
means. ‘ ‘ Why not } ” she asked, then added quickly, 
“but you would not have time. If you were sure 
of getting it, you might ask your uncle to lend it to 
you for a few days. I would ask him to make you 
a present of the dress, if he were not so cross. ” 

“I wouldn’t have you ask him that on any ac¬ 
count ! ” exclaimed Grace. 

“But he will be perfectly willing to lend the 
money, I am sure,” continued Aunt Eveline. 

“ On second thought. Aunt Eveline, I have decided 
not to borrow either of him or papa. I am sure 


204 


THE CONWAYS. 


papa would consider me very foolish. He gives me 
all he can afford to spend on me, and I am already 
a little in debt to him. If my black dress is nt)t suit¬ 
able, perhaps it would be wiser for me to stay in my 
room.” 

“Stay in your room! As if you could! Why, 
every one has been told that the party has been 
given in your honor. ” 

“What is that.?’’ asked Zana, appearing in the 
doorway. 

“Zana,” demanded Grace, “why did not you tell 
me, before I left Oakwood, that none of my dresses 
were suitable for one of your parties .? ” 

“ What good would that have done.? ” replied Zana. 
“I had become well enough acquainted with you 
to know that you would not coax your father for 
more money, and I was afraid if I said one word 
that you would stay at home. Besides, I meant to 
make papa buy a dress for you.” 

“Zana! I wonder if you really think I would 
take it.? ” 

“ Wouldn’t you. Grade, to please me.?” Zana 
looked very winning as she asked the question. 

“ Not even to please you, dear cousin ; because I 
am sure that Uncle William feels as if he could not 
afford it, and I am more than sure that my father 
and mother would be vexed. They do not wish us 
to accept expensive presents from any one but them¬ 
selves.” 

Zana looked greatly disappointed. She had been 
so sure that she could arrange everything to suit 
' herself if she once succeeded in getting Grace to the 


THE CONWAYS. 


205 

city, and in the midst of the excitement incident to 
a girl s first party. 

“I don't see why I cannot stay in my room/' 
began Grace. 

‘ ‘ There is your pink silk," said Mrs. Conway to 
Zana, paying no attention to Grace’s remark, which 
she had interrupted. 

“Oh, Grace, would you wear it” Zana’s voice 
was full of pleading. “Please say yes. It is 
not very nice, but it is more suitable than anything 
you have, and can easily be made to fit you. Do, 
do say yes. Grade ! Be the dearest girl in the 
world.” 

Grace longed to say no ; but it seemed to her that 
it would be neither polite nor generous, under the 
circumstances, so she spoke a reluctant yes, and 
then was obliged to submit to a great deal of petting 
from the delighted Zana, which she could not appre¬ 
ciate as she felt she should. 

The pink dress was brought out for inspection. It 
was cut with a demi-train, which was somewhat 
soiled. There were faded streaks on the skirt, and 
worn places along the seams in the bodice. It had 
not been a very good piece of silk to begin with, 
and now looked decidedly cheap. Grace could not 
help thinking that it looked much worse than any 
dress she had ; but she was too well bred to put her 
thought into words. 

“Try it on. please, Grace. It does not look very 
well by daylight, but will look much better by gas¬ 
light. I believe it will need very little alteration.” 

“Oh ! ” exclaimed Grace, in a tone of dismay, as 


2o6 


THE CONWAYS. 


the dress was slipped over her head, ‘‘must I wear 
it this way ?'' 

“What way? ’’ asked Mrs. Conway. 

“Without any sleeves, and low in the neck.” 

“ Why, to be sure ! ” 

“Aunt Eveline, I never can do it.” 

“ Never can ! Why not ? What nonsense you 
talk, Grace.” 

“All party dresses are made that way,” hastily 
interposed Zana, who feared her mother’s tone of 
sharpness would arouse her cousin’s combativeness. 
“That is the great reason why your dresses are not 
suitable. You will not feel at all ill at ease when 
you are in a room full of girls dressed just like you. 
I didn’t feel very comfortable when I put on my first 
low-necked dress, but in half an hour I forgot all 
about it. Please be good. Grade, and don’t worry 
us any more. We are so anxious to have you look 
as my city friends do.” 

“ I will lend my black lace for theoccasion,” vol¬ 
unteered Aunt Sara, with what her sister considered 
surprising generosity. “There is enough of it to 
cover the silk entirely, and then the faded streaks 
will not show at all ; you will be the best-dressed 
girl in the room, my dear. ” 

“Oh, Aunt Sara !” exclaimed Zana, who was as 
pleased as if she herself had been allowed to wear 
the handsome lace which she had always coveted, 
“You are just too lovely for any use ! ” 

“Grace was kind to me when I suffered,” replied 
Aunt Sara, in a tone which plainly said that Zana had 
not been kind, “ and I do not forget such things.” 


THE CONWAYS. 


207 


Zana was wise enough not to continue the con¬ 
versation, but gave her whole attention to the dress. 
“I will pay the dressmaker,” said Mrs. Conway, 

“ and Grace need not-” 

“Indeed, Aunt Eveline” interrupted Grace, “I 
would much rather pay her myself. ” 

“ I shall not allow it,” insisted Aunt Eveline, with 
a pretty smile. “We have taken this matter into 
our own hands, Zana and I, and we shall not feel 
comfortable unless allowed to pay the bills. It will 
take all the money you can spare to purchase gloves, 
a fan, and a few necessary trifles which you will 
need to complete your costume.” 

And so it had been arranged, and Grace had not 
felt quite comfortable since. She had borrowed 
money of Ned for the fan and gloves and other nec¬ 
essary trifles, which had cost almost as much as 
she had intended to spend on her entire outfit for 
the coming summer ; but she had not yet told her 
brother about the party dress and the uneasiness it 
was causing her. 

The dress was not to be tried on again before the 
party, and Aunt Eveline watched Mrs. Smith closely 
to see that nothing was left undone. She had a 
belief that all employees spent more time in evading 
work than in doing that for which they were hired, 
and boasted that she would be a very sharp woman 
indeed who could outwit her. 

“Please, Aunt Eveline,” begged Grace, “cover my 
shoulders as much as possible ! It seems to me 
that it would be pretty to have the lace fastened close 
around my neck.” 



2o8 


THE CONWAYS. 


‘‘Her shoulders do look lovely through the lace," 
said Mrs. Smith, holding the lace under Grace’s 
chin. 

“That is rather pretty,” admitted Aunt Eveline. 
“We will have it that way, but we must cut the silk 
lower in the neck, so as to have more of her shoul¬ 
ders showing through. Now, arrange the lace some¬ 
thing like this.” 

“It can’t be done, Mrs. Conway, without cutting 
it.” 

“The lace must not be cut,” interposed Grace. 
“Aunt Sara said so.” 

“I never pay any attention to what she says,” 
responded Mrs. Conway, cutting across the beauti¬ 
ful lace. “Sara is always fussing about some¬ 
thing. ” 

“But the lace belongs to her,” faltered Grace. 

“What if it does ! It is only a piece of lace, and 
in all probability she will never wear it again. I 
dare say she will never discover that it has been 
cut, unless you tell her. Don’t begin to fret over 
nothing, or you will get me so nervous that I shall 
not be able to tell whether this is draped right, or 
not. Remember that it would not have needed cut¬ 
ting had you not insisted on having your shoulders 
covered.” 

Poor Grace ! She felt as if her cup of unhappi¬ 
ness was very nearly full. To have the lace cut 
against Aunt Sara’s expressed wish, to be made to 
feel to blame for it, and then to have the party 
dress made still lower in the neck ! It was hard 
, indeed. 


THE CONWAYS. 


209 


“How awkward you are ! ” exclaimed Mrs. Con¬ 
way, sharply, as Mrs. Smith tried to pin the folds 
of lace. “Give the pins to me ; I can do it better 
myself. ’’ 

“I am very tired,” replied the poor woman in a 
tone of apology, “and I am not used to making 
a dress on such short notice.” 

“ Had we had more time, we could have gone 
to Madam Gray’s,” retorted Aunt Eveline, “so you 
ought to be very glad thht we are in a hurry. ” 

“Can you not rest a little while, Mrs. Smith.? I 
am sure you will have time to finish the dress,” 
said Grace. “You look so tired that I cannot bear 
to have you work on anything for me. ” 

“It will be wiser to finish the dress first and rest 
afterwards, ” remarked Mrs. Conway, positively. ‘ ‘ I 
know too well what it is to be obliged to wait for a 
dress until the guests begin to arrive.” 

When, at last, Grace was relieved, she rushed 
out of the room with a heart so heavy that she dare 
not trust herself to speak again, fearing she should 
cry. She felt that she must be alone a little while, 
and went into the library, knowing that it was- 
usually deserted at that hour of the day. 

“What shall I do!” she moaned, throwing her¬ 
self on a couch, and burying her face in the pillow. 
“Oh, what shall I do I ” 

“What is it, little sister ? Are you homesick? ” 
Ned came from behind the heavy window cur¬ 
tains, and lifted Grace so that her head rested on 
his shoulder, as he sat beside her. 

“Oh, Ned 1 ” sobbed Grace, “I thought you were 
14 


210 


THE CONWAYS. 


with Rob. Don’t mind me ! Pretend Fm laugh¬ 
ing ! I am awfully weak and foolish.” 

“Are you homesick ? ” 

“No, not much; but I wish I were at home.” 
Grace sat up, and dried her eyes. “I ought to be 
ashamed of myself for being so silly,” she added, 
trying to force a smile. 

“You don’t make a practice of crying about noth¬ 
ing,” replied Ned, gravely, and Grace’s eyes filled 
with tears again. 

“Don’t baby me, Ned,” she exclaimed, “or I 
shall be crying in earnest. I have been wishing 
all day that I could find a good excuse for going 
home.” 

“You don’t tell me why, Grace.” 

“I can’t dress as I please, to-night ! ” 

“ Why not ? ” Ned tried not to laugh. It seemed 
to him a very simple matter to feel so badly about. 

“None of my dresses are suitable, so Aunt Eveline 
says, and Zana-” 

“ Zana is silly, and Aunt Eveline is-” 

“ Hush, Ned ! We mustn’t talk against them.” 

“Zana never looks half as well dressed as you 
do !” 

“She dresses more stylishly, Ned.” 

“What does that amount to, if it doesn’t make 
one look well ? ” 

“It amounts to more than I ever supposed it did, 
before we came here. Well, they decided that I 
must have a party dress-” 

“ Is that the secret of the borrowed money.? ” 

“Oh, dear, no! Ned^ it is perfectly dreadful; 





THE CONWAYS. 


21 I 


but every cent of that money went for things that 
will not be worth anything to me after the party— 
pink satin slippers, pink kid gloves, a pink fan, pink 
ribbons—it just makes me sick to think of it all! I 
shall be obliged to wear my old clothes for a year, 
in .consequence. ” 

‘ ‘ Don’t give it another thought, Gracie. I had 
that money ahead ; just consider that those things 
are a present from me. ” 

‘‘I shall not consider anything of the sort! You 
are not to save money for me to spend foolishly.” 

“You have not spent it foolishly. If other girls 
have such things, you ought to have them, too. I 
should not like to have you attract attention because 
of your economy.” 

. “You haven’t heard the worst, Ned.” 

“ Let’s have it ! I’m braced.” 

“ I am to wear one ofZana’s old party dresses- 

“ I don’t believe it ! ” 

“ But I am, Ned.” 

“I shouldn’t do anything of the sort. Wouldn’t 
you look fine marching around in Zana’s cast-off 
finery ! ” 

“Oh, please, Ned! You make it so very hard I 
Don’t you suppose I have thought of it over and 
over again I ” 

Grace buried her face on her brother’s shoulder, and 
cried again as if her heart would break. 

“So this is the trouble! Poor Queenie! It is 
tough, and no mistake. How did it happen, 
Grace.? ” 

“They thought I would be 30 —so conspicuous— 



212 


THE CONWAYS. 


in any of my dresses—and—and—Ned, Fm ashamed 
to lose my self-control like this ! ” 

Grace wiped her eyes, and, getting up, began to 
walk back and forth across the room. “I am going 
to behave myself,” she said, with a pretty little air of 
defiance. “You may not be able to believe it 
after this exhibition, but I am actually going to be¬ 
have myself! ‘ The fact is, Ned, I have worried 
over this until I have nearly made myself sick.” 

“It isn't worth it.” 

“Wait until you have heard all I have to tell you. 
Well, they made me feel that they would be ashamed 
of me, and they would not agree to let me stay in 
my own room, and they wanted me to buy a new 
dress, which, of course I couldn’t do. Then they 
thought of Zana’s dress, and Aunt Sara lent some 
black lace for draperies. You see, Ned, I am to be 
dressed very much like a charity girl ! ” 

“I do not see anything of the sort,” responded 
Ned, sturdily. He recognized the situation, which 
he could not change, and had quickly resolved to 
make it as easy for his sister as he could. “If they 
really feel as you say they do,” he continued, “ and 
it makes them more comfortable to rig you out like 
a fashion plate, why, all you have to do is to re¬ 
member that we are their guests.” 

“I have thought of that every minute; Ned ; 
otherwise I never could have compelled myself to 
even think of wearing that dress. ” 

“Pride and poverty,” quoted Ned. 

“ It isn’t pride altogether ; it is self-respect. Ned, 
you don’t know how that dress is made,” 


THE CONWAYS. 


213 

“Oh, spare me, Grace! I don’t care. I can't 
understand tucks and ruffles.” 

Ned had his hands raised as if in self-defence, and 
was hastening towards the door. 

“But I must tell you a little about it, Ned ! ” 

“Not one word ! I’ll see it to-night, and that will 
be enough. I have no doubt that you will be stun¬ 
ning. Now, you’d better put your face a-soak in 
something! It is red as a beet, and your nose 
resembles a coffee-pot. My child, you are not charm¬ 
ing when you cry ; let me advise you as a friend-” 

Grace darted towards him, and he disappeared 
through the door. 

“ Well, ” she thought, “I suppose it wouldn't have 
done any real good to tell him, for the dress cannot 
be changed now, but I wish I could have given him 
a little idea how I shall look before he sees me ! ” 



214 


THE CONWAYS, 


CHAPTER XVI. 

Grace fully intended to go to Aunt Sara, as soon 
as that lady awoke from her nap, and tell her about 
the lace. She was a little anxious as to the effect 
such information would have on the invalid’s nerves, 
but no other course seemed to her to be quite con¬ 
sistent with honor. Not only must she tell Aunt 
Sara, but she believed she must take all the blame 
on her own shoulders. 

“Oh, dear!” she thought, wearily, “how much 
that dress has cost I Even poor Mrs. Smith was 
made to bear hard criticism on account of it, and 
was oliged to work when she ought to have been in 
bed.” 

“Where are you going, Grace.?” asked Z an a, as 
Grace passed her door. 

“To see if Aunt Sara is awake.” 

“She is, but she will not see you or any one else, 
now. She is getting ready for the party.” 

“Getting ready for the party ! Why, she has been 
sick all day.” 

“You mean you have worked over her all day 
while she stayed in bed. I presume you have 
soothed her nerves so that she will be in excellent 
spirits to-night. She says you do her a great deal of 
good,” Zana added, mischievously. 


THE CONIVAVS. 


215 

“Zana, tell me truly ! Is she going to be in the 
parlors to-night ? ” 

‘‘Of course she is^! She wouldn’t miss it for any 
amount, but she will remain in bed all day to-mor¬ 
row, as a consequence, and be as cross as two 
sticks for a week.” 

“ Well,” said Grace, decidedly, as she started to¬ 
wards the door again, “ if she is well enough to go 
to that party, she is well enough to see me.” 

“She may be well enough, my dear, but she won’t 
see you. She is lying in bed with her face covered 
with raw beefsteak, and there she will stay until she 
has barely time enough left in which to dress. She 
makes it a rule never to see any one when her face 
is covered with raw beefsteak. ” 

Grace stared at her cousin in amazement. “Raw 
beefsteak ! ” she finally managed to exclaim. 

“Certainly, my dear!” Zana laughed merrily. 
“Did you never hear of that.? It is to make her 
skin look soft and young. You and I will come to 
that some day.” 

‘ ‘ I never shall ! ” replied Grace. 

“Well, I expect to. When I am old and ugly, I 
shall do everything I can to make myself look 
better. I believe that is a woman’s duty.” 

“Faugh! A woman should have too much to 
do to think how her face looks. ” 

“She may not think about it, but others will.” 

“If she is a good woman and does her duty, do 
you suppose any one will give a second thought to 
her personal appearance—that is, if she is neatly 
dressed and ladylike in her manners .? Fancy my 


THE CONWAYS. 


2 i6 

mother lying in bed with beefsteak on her face/' 

“ Your mother has a fine complexion and does 
not need to do so. She has some wrinkles, though, 
that she might get rid of if she would.’' 

“I think mother’s wrinkles are just what makes 
her face look pretty.” 

“ Really, Grace, I think you do not take a sensi¬ 
ble view of such things. A little society life will 
make you see very differently. ” 

Grace opened her mouth to protest, but thought 
of the low-necked party dress, and remained silent. 

“ Two weeks ago, ” she thought, “I should have 
said that I would not wear a dress like that, and that 
nothing could induce me to appear in borrowed 
garments. ” 

There were many last things to be done before the 
guests arrived, and both girls were quite tired when 
they went to their rooms to dress ; but both had 
forgotten all weariness by the time they entered 
the room where they were to help Mrs. Conway 
receive the guests. 

“ Is that the dress.?” exclaimed Ned, on seeing 
Grace ; then, remembering that he had decided not 
to criticize it, no matter how much he might dislike 
it, he changed the subject abruptly by asking Rob 
why on earth city folks should not be expected to put 
in an appearance at a reasonable hour. Grace un¬ 
derstood his effort to change the subject, and the hot 
tears sprang to her eyes. She had not expected Ned 
to be pleased with her appearance, but she had 
indulged in a faint hope that he might not disap- 
' prove of her dress quite so much as she herself did. 


THE CONWAYS. 


217 


‘ ‘ Do you like Grace s dress ? ” asked Mrs. Conway 
of Ned, a few moments later, when Grace had found 
a pretext to take her into the conservatory. 

“I can't say that I do,'’ replied Ned, with the cool¬ 
est of candor. He was out of patience with his aunt 
for making Grace appear like a guy, as he expressed 
it, and he took no pains to conceal his feelings. 

“Ah ! ” responded Mrs. Conway, sarcastically. 
“ Well, Ned, if I were you I would not tell her so. It 
is not necessary that you should let your prejudice, 
born of ignorance of the ways of the world, contribute 
to her discomfort. There are a great many persons 
in this world who do not like what they are not accus¬ 
tomed to, but often, in a few years, they are enabled 
to smile at their old prejudices.” 

Mrs. Conway said this with her sweetest smile, 
and in a voice so soft that an ear less sensitive than 
Ned's could not have detected the sarcasm ; but he 
flushed with resentment. 

“I presume that taunt is most fitting. Aunt 
Eveline,” he replied ; “but I never want to see the 
day when I shall be glad to have my sister dressed 
like that. I should rather be called an ignoramus, or 
a country bumpkin, or anything of the sort, all the 
days of my life.” 

Grace returned to the room in time to overhear 
that last speech, but at the same moment the guests 
began to arrive, and her hurriedly-formed purpose to 
go to her room and exchange the dress for one of her 
own could not be carried out. She had never in her 
life felt so utterly miserable ; but there had never been 
a time when she felt that her brother had so good a 


THE CONWAYS. 


2 iS 

reason for disapproving of her. Next to her father and 
mother she cared most for Ned’s good opinion, a 
state of mind with which many sisters cannot ap¬ 
preciate or sympathize. She went through her part 
mechanically, and earned for herself the reputation of 
being one of the most stupid girls in the room, a rep¬ 
utation which, had sh^ known of it, would not have 
given her half the unhappiness she was enduring on 
Ned’s account. 

“Are you not going to dance with me? ” she fal¬ 
tered, holding out her card as Ned came towards 
her. 

“Indeed I am!” he exclaimed, taking the card. 
“I have had a time getting here, and don’t you for¬ 
get it 1 ” Then, in a lower tone, “I was awfully 
afraid Rob would make me fill my card before I 
reached you. I shall put my name down here for 
all the rest of the round dances, and then we will 
dance or not, just as we please.” 

“Oh, Ned, I am so glad 1 ” 

“ Don’t worry about yourself. Grade,” whispered 
Ned, pretending to button his sister’s glove. “You 
look more than half sick already ! Don’t think about 
the dress any more ; it looks ten per cent better than 
any other dress in the room.” 

Grace felt as if Ned’s praise was almost worse than 
his displeasure. She knew very well that he did 
not approve of the dress any more than he had at 
first, and that he was only trying to make her feel a 
little more comfortable about it. As soon as she 
could, without drawing attention to herself, she 
, found a seat behind a tall, flowering shrub in a re- 


THE CONWAYS. 


219 

mote corner of the room, hoping to be forgotten un¬ 
til her first dance with Ned was called. There was 
a large bow window quite close to where she sat, 
before which hung heavy curtains, and Grace had 
hardly seated herself when she became aware that 
some one behind the curtains was talking. Her 
hearing was exceptionally good, and she could not 
help but hear what they said. 

“ Why should we say anything to any one.? It 
would only raise a row. Come, Zana, let us run 
away and be married, and do the talking after¬ 
ward. ” 

Grace realized that she was playing the part of 
eavesdropper, and left her seat at once ; but she 
trembled so much that she could hardly walk without 
tottering. 

“What ails you, Grace.? Are you sick.?” Ned 
had noticed her white face, and was beside her 
almost instantly. 

“Take me away ! ” she whispered, and, without 
another word, Ned helped her to her room, almost 
carrying her up the stairs. 

“It was not meant for me to hear,” thought Grace, 
“ and I have no right to repeat it, even to Ned ; but 
oh ! what shall I do ? ” 

“Sit here,” said Ned, “ and I will get some water. 
Are you feeling better.? ” 

“Don’t get water; I am all right now.” 

“Actually, Grace Conway, you came very near 
fainting away. l am quite ashamed of you ! ” Ned 
tried to speak severely, but every word told of the joy 
he felt to see his sister looking more like herself. He 


220 


'FHE CONWAYS. 


was not used to sickness, and had been more fright¬ 
ened than he would have cared to own. 

“It is as hot as an oven in that room,'’ he contin¬ 
ued, “and I felt uncomfortable; but I hope you’ll 
notice that I did not faint. ” 

“Neither did I faint,” protested Grace. 

“You would have, my dear, had I not rushed to 
the rescue. I thought you were never going to faint 
until I did ! That is what a fellow gets for boasting 
about his sister.” 

“ What do you mean .? ” 

“I’ve told Rob over and over again, that you 
were not given to any such foolishness, and 
that-” 

“Ned, please don’t! I didn’t faint, I only felt a 
little shaky. ” 

“You little goose 1 Don’t you know I am joking ? 
What troubles you. Grade.? You haven’t acted like 
yourself since we came here.” 

“Ned, let’s go home.” 

“ I’m willing. _ When shall we start.? ” 

Grace suddenly remembered the conversation she 
had overheard, and thought that, perhaps, she would 
have no right to leave her cousin until very sure that 
she could not be of use to her. 

“What geese we are, Ned 1 ” she said with a smile. 
“ I begin to think that you and I were not born for 
city life. I am feeling nicely again ; suppose we 
go down, before our absence is discovered.” 

All during the remainder of that evening Grace’s 
mind was busy with the new problem that had 
' presented itself. What ought she to do ? She was 



THE CONWAYS. 


221 


quite sure she had recognized the voice behind the 
curtain as belonging to Harry Morgan, a fast young 
man, not yet twenty-two years of age. She knew 
that her uncle disliked him exceedingly, and had 
objected to his being invited to the party ; that her 
aunt, while not liking him, or approving of him, had 
decided that he must be invited because it would 
not do to offend the rest of the family by slighting 
him ; that he had called twice since Zana’s return 
from Oakwood, and that her cousin had said to her 
one day : ‘‘ Harry is not half so bad as he is painted. 
He likes fun, and so all the old folks, who have for¬ 
gotten how they felt when they were young, hold 
up their hands in horror every time he happens to do 
something which they cannot understand.’^ 

The more Grace thought of it, the surer she became 
that Zana was engaged to be married to Harry 
Morgan, and had been for some time. She recalled 
a number of speeches which Zana had made at 
Oakwood, to which she had attached no importance ; 
but now every one of them helped to convince her 
of the truth of this new ^nd startling thought. How 
could she best gain an influence over Zana, sufflcient 
to prevent her from taking the step which Harry had 
suggested.? Suppose he should persuade her to go 
away at once, this very night ? Grace s heart stood 
still at the thought, and she looked around to see if 
her uncle were near, that she might go to him af 
once and tell him to watch Zana. Then came a new 
thought: ‘‘Perhaps Zana told Harry she would not 
go with him. I did not hear her reply. What right 
have I to believe that she would do wrong ? And 


222 


THE COjVPVAVS. 


after all, it may not have been our Zana; I did not 
hear her voice nor see her. There is more than one 
girl in the world named Zana ! I have no right to 
tell tales until I know what I am talking about. ” 

And so Grace’s uneasy thoughts kept troubling her, 
and every minute of the long evening became more 
tedious than the one that preceded it. She thought 
the time would never come when the last guest 
would be gone; but finally the members of the 
family stood alone in the parlor, their weary faces 
contrasting strangely with the gay decorations, and 
Grace' realized, with a sigh of relief, that her first 
party was ended, and that Zana was at home. 

“ I am glad it is over ! ” exclaimed Mr. Conway. 

“ So am I,” responded his wife, “ and I wish I 
could know that we need never give another party.” 

“Why need we ? ” 

“William, if I have explained that once, I have 
a hundred times ! You try my patience beyond 
measure. How can we expect our children to enjoy 
the advantages of good society, unless we entertain ? 
By this one party we have cancelled our most 
pressing obligations, and assured our children as 
many invitations as they will care to accept before 
the close of the season.” 

“A great many more than I shall wish them to 
accept, if they are to receive an invitation from all 
who were here to-night,” replied Mr. Conway, 
significantly. “I must say, Eveline, that your 
definition of good society and mine do not agree.” 

“We cannot expect to entirely approve of every- 
' one who goes in good society,” responded Mr3, 


THE CONWAYS. 


223 


Conway. ‘‘It is quite likely that there are some 
who do not approve of us. Indeed, I am very sure 
that we were subjected to severe criticism to-night.” 

“We may have been criticized for attempting 
something beyond our means,” replied Mr. Conway, 
gravely. “We deserve such criticism at any rate; 
but we cannot be accused of dishonorable or dis¬ 
reputable conduct which would shut any one out 
from decent society, who was not covered by a cloak 
of wealth. I am utterly disgusted, Mrs. Conway, 
and I give you fair warning that this is the last 
party of which the expenses will be paid by me, 
until I have seen a list of all who are to be invited, 
and approved of it.” 

Mr. Conway had seldom been so angry, and his 
wife and children gazed at him in surprise. No one 
had been invited to this party, who had not before 
been invited to their home, and they could not un¬ 
derstand why he had expressed so much more dis¬ 
pleasure than usual. They did not know of the new 
train of thought which had been suggested to him 
by a comparison of his own and his brother’s chil¬ 
dren, nor how that comparison had led him to a more 
careful study of his children’s associates and habits 
of life. 

Grace glanced at her cousin during the progress 
of the conversation, and was sure that she detected 
a look of uneasiness in Zana’s eyes. 

“ Zana knows to whom uncle refers,” she thought, 
her suspicion becoming more a certainty. “ Shall I 
try to talk with her to-night, or would it be better 
to wait until to-morrow when she is rested ? ” Then 


224 


THE CONWAYS. 


came the thought, But she may be planning to go 
to-night ! ” and Grace reached a decision at once. 

“ Dear Heavenly Father/’ she whispered, as she 
followed her cousin up the broad staircase, ‘‘help 
me to say just the right thing. I am so prone to 
blunder ; help me to-night! ” 

The two girls had hardly entered Zana’s dressing- 
room when Grace’s quick eyes caught sight of a 
letter which was lying on the table. 

“A letter from Helen ! ” she exclaimed. “When 
did it come } ” 

“Just before dark. It was hidden by my fan be¬ 
fore we went downstairs.” 

“Why did you not tell me it was here ? ” 

“I was afraid it might contain something to 
worry you. If Helen should beg for a little more 
help, and you could not give it, I knew you would 
be in the dumps the entire evening, ” 

Grace looked at Zana with flashing eyes. “Please 
remember,” she said, “ that I love Helen dearly, and 
that she is no beggar.” 

“You love her, the daughter of a washerwoman, 
better than you love your own cousin,” retorted 
Zana. “How little would you care about what 
happened to me ! ” 

“Oh, Zana, I can never tell you how much I 
should care ! If it were something bad-” 

“Grace,” interrupted Zana, “please forgive me! 
I am cross. I am always cross after a party.” 

Zana spoke with an eagerness which suggested a 
strong desire to change the subject of conversation. 
She had seen a look in her cousin’s eyes which made 



THE CONWAYS. 


22 $ 

her uneasy, but which she would never have noticed 
had it not been for her guilty conscience. 

“Read your letter,” she added, playfully, “and I 
will be good. I should really like to know what 
Helen writes, but I presume you will hardly believe 
it, after that mean speech of mine. If I did not 
always persist in showing the ugly side of my nature 
first, I should not be Zana Conway.” 

Grace opened her letter without replying, but read 
it almost mechanically, for her mind was filled with 
thoughts of Zana’. 

“Well?” said Zana, questioningly, as Grace put 
the letter back into the envelope, and sat staring into 
the open grate. “What is Helen doing? She isn’t 
in trouble, I hope.” 

“ In trouble? Oh, no ! ” Grace started nervously, 
as her cousin’s voice aroused her from the unpleasant 
reverie into which she had fallen. “ Helen is at¬ 
tending an dVt school where tuition is free. Her 
materials to begin work cost her ten dollars ; that 
left her little with which to pay board at The 
Woman’s Boarding Home, but-” 

“You told me all that while we were in Oak- 
wood,” interrupted Zana. “ Did Helen copy one of 
her first letters to you ? ” 

‘ ‘ I believe I had forgotten that you were at Oak- 
wood ! ” replied Grace, looking embarrassed. ‘ ‘ I was 
thinking that you wished an account of Helen from 
the time she left us.” 

“You were thinking of something besides that, 
my lady,” thought Zana, who was watching Grace 
closely, “ and I wish I knew what.” 

15 



226 


THE CONWAYS. 


Zana’s uneasy conscience made her long to know 
what Grace had on her mind, but she feared to ask. In¬ 
stead, she asked how long Helen intended to remain 
in New York. Neither talked of the party as young 
girls usually do at such times,—Grace, because she 
could not just yet; Zana, because she would not, 
dreading something, she knew not what. 

‘ ‘ When Helen left Oakwood, ” replied Grace, ‘ ‘ she 
expected to stay but a few weeks. She would like 
to remain three years. A diploma is not granted 
for less than three years’ study. ” 

“ Who is to help her all that time.? ” 

She hopes to be able to earn enough to pay her 
own expenses in a few months. It seems that the 
superintendent of the engraving room is quite dis¬ 
agreeable, because he does not believe in girls learn¬ 
ing wood engraving. He says they might better do 
dressmaking, or kitchen work; just think of the 
meanness of that! He made life very hard for 
Helen during the first week she was there. Then 
she became acquainted with a lady editor of an 
illustrated paper, who was immediately interested in 
her, and went with her to the superintendent of the art 
department, who took her under his especial charge.” 

‘ AVouldn’t it be fine for Helen if the superintendent 
of the art department were a young man, and be¬ 
came interested in her, on his own account, and 
would make the superintendent of the engraving 
room bow before her most humbly 1 ” 

“ I think Helen would not consider it fine at all,” 
replied Grace, coldly. “She is doing well now, 
and this lady says that when she has studied six 


THE CONWAYS. 


227 


months, she will give Helen four dollars a week for 
part of her time. ” 

“Four dollars a week after six months’ hard 
work ! ” sneeredZana. “ That is liberal, I must say.” 

“Helen thinks it an offer to be proud of. She 
says it is not the prospect of earning the money that 
pleases her so much as the knowledge that her new 
friend believes she can do worthy work.” 

“I think I do not understand Helen very well,” 
said Zana, with sudden thoughtfulness. 

“If you did, you would love her better than you 
do,” replied Grace, seriously. 

“It is just awful to be obliged to look forward to 
such a struggle with poverty as is before her,” con¬ 
tinued Zana. “ I believe I should rather die.” 

“ I think it is glorious to make one’s own way in 
the world ; and to be able to do so in the higher 
walks of life is enough to make anyone perfectly 
happy ! ” 

“ How enthusiastic you are, Grace! You have 
had no real experience with poverty; that is why 
you talk as you do. ” 

Grace laughed. “One would think, to hear you 
talk,” she said, “that such an experience had been 
yours.” 

“It has.” 

“Your father is richer than mine.” 

“ Your father is richer in Oakwood, than mine is 
in Chicago. You do not need as much money as I 
do, for your friends do not spend as much. Why, 
Grace, you haven’t the slightest comprehension of 
what this one party has made me endure.” 


228 


THE CONWAYS. 


‘ ‘ Why do you give such parties ? 

“Because others do, and we are obliged to, or no 
notice is taken of us. Mamma is anxious to have 
us go in the best society, and we are not rich enough 
to afford it, and that is where the trouble lies. I am 
sick of poverty ! ’’ 

Grace had nearly forgotten the task she had set 
herself, but when Zana spoke of the best society, it 
was quickly brought to her mind, and her heart be¬ 
gan to beat violently. . 

“ I think,” she said, “that uncle is rightabout 
there being a question as to the quality of the so¬ 
ciety.” And then our little friend lost control of her¬ 
self, and behaved very differently from what she 
had thought she would. “Oh, Zana ! Oh, Zana ! ” 
she exclaimed almost in tears, “ was it you talking 
behind the curtains with Harry Morgan.? ” 

“When.?” Zana became very red, then turned 
pale. Grace looked at her without replying, and 
Zana knew it would be wiser not to try to evade 
the question. “ Did you hear what we said .? ” she 
asked, almost in a whisper. 

“I heard part of the conversation.” 

“I did not think you an eavesdropper, Grace 
Conway ! ” 

“I did not mean to be one, Zana. I wished to 
get away from the crowd, and found a seat behind 
the large oleander ; but I left as soon as I knew that 
something was being said to which I ought not to 
listen. But oh, Zana ! I heard enough to frighten 
me dreadfully.” 

“Tell me what you heard.” 


THE CONWAYS. 


229 


Grace repeated Harry’s speech, word for word. 

‘ ‘ What else } ” 

“Nothing more.” 

“Are you telling the truth.? ” 

“lam not in the habit of telling falsehoods,” 
replied Grace, coldly. 

Grace’s manner helped Zana to regain her self- 
control, and to realize that, by losing it, she was 
in danger of helping her cousin to information 
which she did not want her to have. 

“No one would ever think to accuse you of fal¬ 
sifying,” she said, trying to smile naturally. “I 
spoke petulantly, as I always do when you accuse 
me of something which you would not do yourself. 
If you had listened one minute longer, you would 
have known that you had no cause for alarm, for I 
told Harry I would not run away with him.” 

“Oh, Zana, I am so very, very glad. ” 

Zana made no ^eply, but, taking down her hair, 
began to plait it. She did not tell Grace, that, after 
she had given Harry that answer, he had continued 
his pleading, and she had not said but that she 
might some day be induced to accede to his request. 
She told herself, now, that she really did not mean 
to do anything of the sort, and that she only pre¬ 
tended that she did to keep Harry talking, because 
in such talk she found a pleasure not offered by any 
other excitement in which she had indulged. There 
was enough truth in this explanation to enable her 
to picture herself as a very much abused girl,—a 
mental performance which never failed to afford her 
a great amount of satisfaction. Zana would have 


230 


THE CONWAYS. 


been alarmed, could she have seen that the pleasant 
little path in which she was walking, led streiight to 
the land of Hysterics, where her Aunt Sara had wan¬ 
dered for so many years ; for no healthy girl can see 
and understand a woman like Aunt Sara, without 
having a feeling of repugnance toward her. 

Grace was so delighted with Zana that she quite 
forgot to inquire by what right Harry had made 
such a proposition. 

“It is almost a pity,” she said, laughing, “that, if 
one overhears part of the conversation, she should 
be driven away by her conscience before getting the 
rest.” 

“A great pity,” returned Zana, coldly, “espe¬ 
cially when her love for the speakers suggests the 
worst possible ending to the conversation.” 

“Why, Zana ! ” Grace’s voice was full of pain. 

“Am I not right.?” demanded Zana, angrily. 
“You cannot deny it. Pray tell me why you were 
so dreadfully frightened ! Was it because you trusted 
me .? Plad it been Helen instead of me, would you 
immediately have jumped to the conclusion that she 
meant to run away ? No, indeed. I am the sinner, 
to be watched over and guarded, and kept from do¬ 
ing wrong, if possible ; you are the saint who can¬ 
not do wrong except in relaxing your vigilance over 
the sinner.” 

Zana was frightened when the tirade had escaped 
her. She had not meant to say just that. If the 
thought had ever been in her mind, she did not 
know it. The words seemed to drop from her lips 
without her knowledge or consent, and they could 


THE CONWAYS. 


231 

not have sounded worse to Grace than they did to 
herself. The little habit of dissimulation, in which 
she was permitting herself to indulge, had gained 
control of her for the moment, and used her as it 
would. And notwithstanding this warning, she 
could not see her danger. 

“Grace,’’ she said, and the poor child was trem¬ 
bling like a leaf, “I do not understand myself 
to-night. I do not know what made me say that; it 
was awful, and I did not say it because I thought it. 
Do you suppose you can ever forget it ? ” 

“If you knew how much I love you, Zana, you 
would not ask that question. I do not blame you for 
feeling as you do.” 

“But I want you to blame me ! ” exclaimed Zana, 
whose better angel was gaining an ascendency. 

“It is nearly daylight, Zana, and we have not 
closed our eyes ! Let us hurry and go to bed. We 
shall both have more sense after we have slept. ” 

Grace’s last thought, before she closed her eyes in 
sleep, was a prayer of thankfulness that Zana was 
safe. 

Zana had two thoughts of about equal strength. 
One was, ‘ ‘ I shall not listen to Harry Morgan again. ” 
The other, “If I should, Grace will not now prove 
troublesome.” 


THE CONWAYS. 


232. 


CHAPTER XVIL 

“The next day after the ball ! ” exclaimed Rob, 
sarcastically, on the following morning, as he took 
his seat at the breakfast-table. “ If I were an artist, 
and wanted to paint a picture of human dejection, 
that should be the subject.” 

“It would represent the members of the family 
who gave the ball, would it not.? ” asked the father 
with a smile. “If a stranger were to see the faces 
around this table, it would be difficult for him to 
believe that, only last evening, we were supposed to 
have taken part in one of the joyous events of life. ” 
“ It is always hard on those who give parties,” 
said Mrs. Conway ; “but if no one ever gave a party 
how could any one ever go .? ” 

“Why should one care to go to a place where 

nothing is to be gained, and-” 

“Now, William, you know you are talking non¬ 
sense ! I beg that you will spare us this morning, 
if you never do again ! You know, as well as I do, 
why people attend a society event of any description, 
and how tired you would be of a world carried on in 
the humdrum style you profess to admire when you 
happen to feel cross. To give a party is not an easy 
task, by any means, but it is much better than to 
accept the consequences of not giving one. It is 



THE CONWAYS. 


233 


unusually hard for people of our means to give parties, 
because we must do so much for ourselves which 
more fortunate people can hire done.*' 

Mr. Conway left the room before the last sentence 
was finished, without having tasted his breakfast. 
He dreaded a repetition of the trials which must be 
borne by a woman who was so foolish as to marry 
any but a wealthy man. It was a favorite subject 
with Mrs. Conway after having been obliged to prac¬ 
tice a little economy, and it seemed to him as if he 
knew by heart just what she would say. It is to be 
hoped that Mrs. Conway did not herself believe all 
that she said on this subject. To do her justice, it 
should be said that she never talked on it except when 
she was very tired or nervous, or suffering from some 
disappointment which she fancied money could have 
prevented. 

Grace and Ned had kept silent during the conversa¬ 
tion, thinking that it would not be polite for them to 
say a word which could be taken as an admission 
that they had not found the party enjoyable, since, 
as they believed, it had been given in their honor. 
Now Grace spoke, hoping to turn the conversation 
into a channel where all might take part in it, as was 
customary at her father’s table, without indulging in 
unpleasant personalities. 

‘Hs it not a question. Aunt Eveline, whether the 
wealthy can always be called the more fortunate } ” 
she asked, looking up with a bright smile on her face. 

“A question!” Aunt Eveline was astonished. 
“Child, I believe you are crazy. If your head is 
filled with such ideas on that subject as your mother 


^34 


THE COJVIVAYS. 


used to profess, for pity’s sake don’t trouble us with 
them this morning ! I have already heard quite as 
much as I can bear.” 

Grace colored with resentment and mortification, 
and Rob, who had quite understood the motive 
prompting the question, leaned toward her with 
mischief in his eyes. 

“ My dear cousin,” he said, gravely, “no philoso¬ 
phizing at this table ! ” 

“I did not mean to be rude, Grace, my dear,” 
added Aunt Eveline apologetically; “but it always 
irritates me to hear any one extol the advantages of 
poverty when I have just been undergoing an ex¬ 
perience which proves that it has nothing but dis¬ 
advantages. There may be people who do not feel 
the disadvantages as keenly as I do, because they 
have less ambition-” 

‘ ‘ Or because their ambition points in a different 
direction, ” thought Grace. 

“But,” continued Aunt Eveline, “I cannot be ex¬ 
pected to sympathize with them as fully as if our 
thoughts travelled along the same line. For my part, 
I believe a girl should think a long time before giv¬ 
ing her hand in marriage to a poor man. She should 
be very sure that she cares absolutely nothing for the 
advantages which wealth offers.” 

“What if, after due consideration,” said Ned, “she 
decided that her feelings for the poor young man out¬ 
weighed her love of the advantages of wealth ? ” 

“She should remember that sentiment rarely out¬ 
lives the trials of poverty, and be very careful not to 
make a fool of herself. ” 



THE CONWAYS. 


235 

And marry a rich young man for whom she has 
no affection ?asked Ned. 

‘‘Certainly not. A girl should never marry a man 
whom she cannot respect. I am afraid, Ned, that 
you, too, hold many of your mother's quixotic opin¬ 
ions—among them an idea that a rich man cannot 
be worthy of respect.” 

‘ ‘ I said nothing of that sort, ” began Ned, “ and-” 

“ You looked it! ” interrupted his aunt. 

“And,” continued Ned, taking no notice of the in¬ 
terruption, “I never heard my mother express any 
such sentiment. She believes that good or evil springs 
from a man's heart, not his pocket-book ; but that if 
his heart is full of evil, he can do more harm with 
money than without it.” 

“ Oh, well,” said Aunt Eveline, carelessly, “ it is a 
question hardly worth discussion. I presume we 
shall all be pretty much what we are born to be, 
anyhow.” 

Grace had listened eagerly to the conversation, 
hoping to hear something that would sink deep into 
Zana's heart, to spring up when needed to help her to 
overcome any evil temptation which might cross her 
pathway ; but nothing more was said, and it was 
evident that Aunt Eveline did not care to have the 
conversation prolonged. At that moment, the maid, 
who had carried Aunt Sara's breakfast to her that 
morning, returned with the information that the in¬ 
valid would like to see Grace at her earliest conven¬ 
ience. Grace immediately left her seat at the table. 

‘ ‘ You are going to be lectured for lack of attention, 
and an inhuman disregard of the sufferings of others, ” 



236 


THE CONWAYS. 


said Rob. “You have been in the habit of carrying 
hjr meals, yourself, my dear,” he explained, in reply 
to Grace’s look of inquiry; “you must now show 
good reason for abandoning that pleasant pastipie.” 

“Rob, you ought to be ashamed!” protested 
Grace, as she left the room. 

“What is it. Aunt Sara,” Grace asked, a few 
moments later, entering that lady’s room, without 
rapping, according to a request made by Aunt Sara. 
Then she stopped abruptly, the bright smile left her 
face, and a troubled expression came into her eyes, 
which might easily have been taken for one of guilt 
by an observer so disposed. Aunt Sara sat propped 
up in bed, an expression of mingled triumph and dis¬ 
pleasure in her steel-blue eyes. Spread out before 
her was the mutilated lace which she had just been 
ripping from, the pink dress. She had awakened at 
an early hour, with every nerve at war with the rest 
of her body, and had sent a servant for Grace, with 
a message that she was very sick and needed her. 
The servant had been met by Rob, who told her to 
go back and tell Aunt Sara that Grace was resting 
and could not go. The girl had delivered Rob’s 
message without taking the trouble to explain who 
sent it, or that she had not seen Grace, and ever 
since Aunt Sara had been endeavoring to relieve her 
overstrained nerves by indulging in a fit of anger, 
noiseless, because without an audience, but more 
vindictive than it would have been, had her vanity 
been soothed by sympathy. She put on a wrapper, 
and, finding her way to Zana’s dressing-room, soon 
returned with the party dress which Grace had worn. 


THE CONWAYS, 


237 


“Fll teach her,” she said, ‘‘that a girl without 
common gratitude cannot expect favors. She shall 
never wear this dress to another party, unless she 
wears it without the lace.” 

Had Aunt Sara known how remote was the pos¬ 
sibility of Grace ever again wanting to wear that 
dress, she would not have spent so much energy in 
ripping it apart, nor would the task have afforded 
her so great an amount of satisfaction. It was while 
at work that she discovered how the lace had been 
cut, contrary to her expressed wish, and realized 
that now she had a real cause for her displeasure. 

“Well, miss,” she said, coldly, as Grace ceased 
speaking, “ I feel well paid for loaning you this 
lace.” 

“Oh, Aunt Sara, I’m so sorry- 

“Very sorry that I discovered what has been done, 
I don’t doubt. I presume you hoped to get away 
before I should see it. ” 

“I am sorry you lent me the lace at all.” 

“Oh, that’s it! I knew I must be at fault, some¬ 
how, although I couldn’t quite see how. Thank 
you for enlightening me. ” 

“Aunt Sara, I don’t know what to say-” 

“ If not too much trouble, you might explain how 
you happened to disregard my wishes concerning 
a piece of valuable lace, given me by my mother.” 

What could Grace say .? She was strongly tempted 
to tell the whole story, but her sense of honor would 
not let her think it quite right to allow Aunt Eve¬ 
line to bear the blame. 

“Aunt Eveline bore the expense of fixing over the 




238 


THE CONWAYS. 


1 


dress,” she thought, “and gaA^e a great deal of her 
own time to it, besides, hoping to please me. Be¬ 
cause I am not pleased is no reason why I should 
make her bear anything more.” 

“Aunt Sara,” she said, “I can tell you nothing 
about the lace, except that it was cut because I ex¬ 
pressed a desire to have my shoulders covered. I 
wish I had never allowed myself to borrow it, and I 
am more sorry than I can tell that it was cut. ” 
“Undoubtedly!” The sarcastic emphasis given 
to that word cut Grace like a knife. “It is easy to 
say we are sorry after we have done a thing to suit 
ourselves, and enjoyed it, and then realize that we 
must face the consequences ; but such sorrow seldom 
prevents us from disregarding another’s wishes a 
second time, should they conflict with our own. 
When I asked you not to allow any one to cut my 
lace, I believed I could trust you. I did not think it 
possible that a woman like your mother would bring 
up a girl to have no regard for her promises. ” 

“Aunt Sara, you shall not bring my mother into 
this conversation I She is everything that is good 
and is not to be blamed if her daughter is unworthy 
of her. I can see, now, as I did not see a moment 
ago, that I am altogether to blame about that lace. 
I have been weak and irresolute and wrong from the 
moment that party dress was mentioned, and I am 
utterly ashamed of myself.” 

. To say that Aunt Sara was surprised, would be to 
put it mildly. She had not believed, for one mo¬ 
ment, that Grace wa§ responsible for the cutting of 
the lace, knowing how little she had been allowed 


THE CONWAYS, 


239 


to say regarding any part of her evening costume, 
and she had not expected to find Grace more severe 
with herself than she had meant to be with her. 
The lady’s plan was to scold Grace until she had re¬ 
duced her to a satisfactory state of submission and 
humiliation, when she expected once more to have a 
nice little nurse, who would humor all her whims. 
But even Aunt Sara could see that Grace’s manner 
was not such as is usually shown by a girl who means 
to fawn upon one whom she has abused until the 
worst of the storm has blown over, thinking to choose 
an easy way out of a difficulty. Uncertain as to what 
she would better say next, she managed to ask Grace 
for an explanation in a voice in which there was 
little left of sarcasm. 

“I did wrong to allow myself to wear borrowed 
garments. Aunt Sara, and very,, very wrong to wear 
a dress cut like that. It was a case in which I should 
have consulted my principles, rather than my de¬ 
sire not to give offense. ” 

“Do you actually think it wrong for women to 
wear low-necked dresses .? ” 

“I do not pretend to think anything about what 
other women and girls should wear,” replied Grace. 
“ I have only to decide the question with regard to 
myself. I’m sure it is wrong for me to wear such 
a dress ; indeed, I am more convinced of it now 
than I was before I wore one. How much money 
will pay for the damage done your lace. Aunt 
Sara ? ” 

“Child,” there was a pleasanter tone in Aunt 
Sara’s voice, “ I do not want anything. I really do 


240 


THE CONWAYS. 


not care half so much about it as I pretended I did. 
I wish, however, that you had told me about it, in¬ 
stead of leaving me to find it out for myself." 

“I had no opportunity last night, Aunt Sara. It 
was not cut until late in the day. I started to come 
early in the evening, but Zana said you were getting 
ready for the party, and would not see me ; so I 
decided to come to you as early as possible this 
morning." 

“And then showed your anxiety by refusing to 
come when I was sick and sent for you.” The 
spirit of sarcasm was again gaining control. 

“ When did you send for me ? ” 

“This morning.” 

“I received no message from you, this morning,’^ 
replied Grace, quietly. 

“ Did you not send word that you were resting 
and could not come ? ” 

“Does that sound like me .? ” 

‘ ‘ Not entirely unlike you, as you showed yourself 
yesterday. ” 

“ Did I not come every time you sent for me, and 
do what I could for you ? ” 

“Oh, yes, you came! ,You could hardly have 
done otherwise, considering the circumstances .; but 
you did not appear greatly concerned regarding what 
I was obliged to suffer. ” 

Grace was silent, her mind filled with wonder that 
a woman of Aunt Sara’s age could show herself so 
weak, and her heart filled with pity that she could 
not have foreseen the condition into which she was" 


THE CONWAYS. 


241 


drifting, in time to have prevented such a pitiful 
wreck of her life. 

“You are very different from what you seemed 
when you first came here,'’ continued Aunt Sara. 
“I presume that, when you thought the poor in¬ 
valid had nothing more worth borrowing, you con¬ 
cluded to waste very little sympathy upon her.” 

“You poor thing ! ” exclaimed Grace, impul¬ 
sively, “what a dreadful condition your mind-” 

she stopped abruptly, remembering that a good 
nurse does not talk to a patient of his symptoms, and 
began stroking Aunt Sara’s head. “If my manner 
is any different,” she said, “I suppose it is because 
I understand your case better than when I first 
came. ” 

Grace was beginning to see how jealous an hys¬ 
terical person is of her reputation as a great sufferer, 
and proceeded cautiously. “You know, Aunt Sara, 
that I have had very little experience with sickness, 
and at first you frightened me awfully. When you 
had those queer spells, I thought every breath must 
be your last.” 

“Now, I suppose you think I do not suffer at all,” 
replied Aunt Sara, petulantly. 

“ Now I know the attacks are not so serious as I 
at first thought them,” replied Grace, quietly. 

Aunt Sara made no reply. She knew, now, that, 
so far as Grace was concerned, there was an end to 
the pleasant sensation which was afforded her by 
the ministrations of one who believed in the reality 
of all her simulated sufferings ; but Grace had not 
wholly deserted her, and she concluded to drop a 



242 


THE CONWAYS. 


subject of conversation which she knew could not 
be carried on with any credit to herself. When 
Grace had stroked her forehead for some moments, 
she pretended to fall asleep, hoping that she would 
be left alone for a little while. She found it more 
irksome than she would have deemed possible, to be 
cared for by one whom, she was sure, did not believe 
such ministrations necessary. 

Grace kept her place by the bedside for some time 
after her patient had closed her eyes, fearing that a 
movement on her part might disturb her. 

“Poor Aunt Sara,” she thought, her eyes filling 
with tears, “I believe uncle understands her better 
than I do ; but oh, I am so sorry for her ! Why 
couldn’t some one have pointed out the danger, be¬ 
fore the habit became too strong for her to overcome ! 
How I wish I could help her now.” 

A number of plans suggested themselves whereby 
Aunt Sara might be helped to overcome the habit 
of many years, but all were quickly dismissed as 
being of little value, and all the ’ivhile Grace was 
brooding over this new problem, her hands swept 
Aunt Sara’s brow with the steady, gentle motion 
that the weakened nerves had found so soothing. 
The effect was less magical than usual on this oc¬ 
casion, however, for Aunt Sara, weary with being 
kept so much longer in her feigned slumber than 
she had expected to be, pettishly asked herself if she 
were never to be left alone, and if it might not be a 
good plan to wake up, in a few moments, and de¬ 
clare that it made her nervous to have her head 
stroked. She would speedily have carried that last 


THE CON WAVS. 


243 


suggestion into effect, could she have known what 
was going on in the mind of her little nurse ; for, 
even had she undeceived herself to the extent that all 
who knew her were undeceived regarding her fancied 
sufferings, she would not, then, have cared to over¬ 
come the habit she had cherished so long. 

A doubt of God’s ability and willingness to settle 
every difficulty presented to Him by suffering hu¬ 
manity, had never entered Grace’s mind. She went 
to Him with all her little troubles just as freely as 
she went to her mother. If the difficulty was not 
settled in the way she asked, she decided that God 
had a better way which would some day be made 
known to her. Her childlike trust in her Heavenly 
Father was a subject of wonder to some of her young 
friends, who, knowing less than she did of the beau¬ 
ties of His word, yet felt themselves called upon 
to offer disparaging criticisms at every opportunity. 
But, notwithstanding their assumed superiority of 
discernment on such subjects, there was not one of 
these critics who exerted the influence among his 
companions that Grace did, or who commanded the 
love and respect that was so freely accorded her. 
After vainly trying to solve some plan whereby Aunt 
Sara 'might be helped, no other course seemed so 
good as to talk to her Heavenly Father about it. 

“Areyou sleeping. Aunt Sara.? ” she asked softly. 

Not a quiver of the eyelids denoted that Aunt Sara 
was not as sound asleep as she pretended to be, and 
Grace dropped on her knees beside the bed, and 
buried her face in her hands ; then, in a voice scarce¬ 
ly raised abovQ a whisper, sh$ offered up the follow- 


244 


THE CONWAYS. 


ing petition : “Dear Heavenly Father, if it is true 
that Aunt Sara’s sickness is only a bad habit, please 
make her see it in that light, and help her to over¬ 
come the habit and be strong, that she may give 
her life to some useful work before it is too late. 
Oh, dear, dear Heavenly Father, please hear my 
prayer, for it is awful to think of any one wasting a 
whole lifetime in making herself and others believe 
that she is sick. I am sure she did not realize what 
she was doing when she first began ; but now the 
habit is stronger than she is, and Fm sure she can 
never overcome it unless you help her.” 

Grace arose, touched Aunt Sara’s forehead lightly 
with her lips, then passed out of the room on tiptoe, 
not dreaming that she left a patient behind whose 
mind was filled with emotions so conflicting that it 
would not regain its self-complacency for many a 
long day, if ever. 

As Grace closed the door behind her, she chanced 
to glance from the window at the head of the stairs, 
just in time to see Harry Morgan slip a note into 
Zana’s hand, as that young lady passed him in an 
alley back of the lot on which the row of tenement 
houses was built. 

“How happened Zana to be out there.?” she 
thought, “and with only a light breakfast-shawl 
around her. And how happened Harry Morgan to 
be there ? That is not the way to his father’s office, 
neither is it the road a young man would naturally 
choose when starting for a morning walk, or to make 
a party call. ” 

Strange as it may seem, no touch of last night’s 


THE CONWAYS. 


245 


suspicions entered Grace’s mind. She had fully be¬ 
lieved Zana’s explanation, and also what Zana im¬ 
plied when she said she had refused to do as Harry 
wished. Her only thought was that she would 
have a fine opportunity to tease Zana about a most 
romantic meeting which she had chanced to witness. 

“ril describe the meeting to her before Ned and 
Rob,” she thought, a mischievous smile playing 
about her lips, “and I’ll describe the interested par¬ 
ties in such a way that it will take the boys some 
time to guess to whom I refer. How it will bother 
Zana ! ” 

Suddenl)fc Grace remembered the note which Harry 
had slipped into Zana’s hand and her heart became 
heavy. 

“ Is it possible,” she asked herself, “that Zana, 
dear cousin Zana, is deceptive ? ” 

Grace was too generous to entertain such a sug¬ 
gestion, and decided that Zana happened to be in 
the alley when Harry passed, but did not arrange to 
be there, and that she should not be considered en¬ 
tirely to blame if he persisted in his importunities. 

“Zana is weak,” Grace thought, reluctant to admit 
it even to herself; “ but there are many weak people 
who are not wicked, and I have no right to assume 
that she means to do wrong simply because she is 
foolish enough to keep up her acquaintance with a 
young man who urges her to do so. Perhaps she 
will tell me about the letter, if I do not act as if I 
distrusted her, and then I may have an opportunity 
to convince her that she ought not to have anything 
more to do with Harry.” 


246 


THE CONWAYS. 


CHAPTER XVIII. 

Zana had caught sight of Grace as she turned away 
from the window, and knew that her meeting with 
Harry had been observed. She was, therefore, not 
surprised at the expression of gravity on her cousin’s 
face, but, having allowed nearly an hour to elapse 
before seeking her society, was quite prepared for it. 
Grace was in the sitting-room, trying to become in¬ 
terested in a conversation between Rob and Ned, on 
street-car service, but was too worried about Zana 
to think of much else. 

“ I met Harry Morgan, this morning, Grace,” said 
Zana, carelessly, as she entered the room and threw 
herself on the couch. “Telia writes that she is 
planning a fine party in your honor.” 

“That note must have been from Telia ! ” thought 
Grace. “ Why couldn’t I have thought of that.? I 
must be growing decidedly suspicious. ” 

Grace would not have felt so greatly relieved as 
she did, could she have known that Telia had written 
regarding the party two days ago, and that the note 
now resting in Zana’s pocket contained a new plan 
which Harry had promised to make known to Zana, 
provided she would meet him in the alley at a cer¬ 
tain hour. 


THE CONWAYS. 


24.7 

“You may count me out on that party,” said Rob, 
before Grace could think of a suitable reply. 

“Why so? ” asked Zana, quickly. 

“For two reasons that you already know. I do 
not care to go, and father wants us to have nothing 
to do with the Morgans.” 

“I can’t understand why you do not care to go,” 
replied Zana, who preferred to ignore Rob’s second 
reason. 

“ I dislike Harry Morgan. I have disliked him 
ever since I knew him.” 

“You are not expected to be in love with every¬ 
one you meet in society,” replied Zana, disagree¬ 
ably. 

“Nor do I feel under obligations to throw myself* 
under the feet of a fellow whom I dislike. You in¬ 
vited the Morgans here, and I was as polite to them 
as I knew how to be ; but I’ll be—well, older than I 
am now before I’ll deliberately put myself where I 
must go through it when unnecessary.” 

“Do you know anything against the Morgans? ” 

“Nothing in particular. I presume they have 
done nothing to give them a place among the 
criminal classes,” replied Rob, provokingly. It was 
more than Zana’s temper could endure. 

“Please understand, Mr. Robert Conway,” she 
said, “that Harry and Delia are friends of mine, and 
I’ll thank you not to speak of them as you have just 
spoken, until you have something more than your 
prejudices on which to base your opinion.” 

“Zana, every day Harry and his sister do things 
which you would not countenance in poor people,” 


248 


THE CONWAYS. 


replied Rob, gravely. ‘'I don’t see how you can 
excuse so much.” 

“I am not responsible for what they do, neither 
am I the only one wlio seems to give them coun¬ 
tenance. There are no young people in our set who 
receive more invitations than they do. ” 

“ Is that a good reason for our liking or disliking 
a person } ” 

“It is a good reason why we should hesitate be¬ 
fore making our likes or dislikes public by refusing 
to accept or extend an invitation. There are rules 
of society which should be obeyed, just as there are 
rules of business which cannot be ignored. A man 
does not expect to inquire into the habits of every 
man with whom he does business, to discover 
whether or not he can make a bosom friend of him ; 
neither does he denounce him as a scoundrel with¬ 
out good and sufficient cause.” 

“Your idea, then,” said Ned, “is that the heart 
is not a factor in our social relationship any more 
than in our business relationship.” 

“Just that,” replied Zana. 

“In other words, you make it a business to get 
into the best social circles you can.” 

“ Yes, I suppose that is as good a definition of the 
situation as we can find.” 

“What are we to understand by best society?” 

“Why, they who are endorsed by the greatest 
number of people whom one would be glad to 
know.” 

“Tom, the saloon-keeper, would not care at all 
about being included in the social circle which would 


THE CONWAYS. 


249 


welcome a Henry Ward Beecher, because Tom and 
Beecher do not endorse the same class of people. 
Your definition is not very explicit” Ned looked as 
if he considered his argument unanswerable. 

“You know well enough what I mean,” replied 
Zana, starting towards the door, “andI’ll not waste 
time in talking to you.” 

‘ ‘ Head her off, Rob ! ” shouted Ned. ^ ‘ Let’s make 
her stay until she has properly defined her posi¬ 
tion. This is more fun than I’ve had in a week.” 

“My dear girl,” said Rob, leading his sister to a 
chair, “you might as well take it easy ! You have 
excited our curiosity, also our combativeness ; you 
cannot go until you have reduced us to a normal 
condition. ” 

“Rob, you’re wandering!” exclaimed Ned. 
“You devote yourself to keeping her in the room, 
while I ask the questions.” 

“You need not trouble yourself,” retorted Zana, 
“for I shall not answer them.” 

“Miss Zana, is it not true that each individual 
must decide for himself what constitutes the best 
society 1 ” 

There was no reply. 

“Rob, pressure will have to be brought to bear 
until a reply is given,” added Ned, with mock solem¬ 
nity, after waiting for a few moments for Zana to 
speak. 

Rob put both arms around his sister, and squeezed 
her until she begged for him to stop. 

“Answer Ned’s questions!” he commanded. 
“Yes, or no.? ” 


250 


THE CONWAYS. 


“Yes/’ gasped Zana, and Rob set her free. 

“You have admitted, my dear young lady,” con¬ 
tinued Ned, “ that each one decides for himself what 
society is best. That means, what he most enjoys, 
does it not.? ” 

No reply. 

“Rob, more pressure ! ” 

Rob extended his arms threateningly. 

“No, oh, no!” exclaimed Zana, putting up her 
hand in self-defense. “I’ll say it! What do you 
want me to say .? ” 

“In deciding what is the best society, you con¬ 
sider the amount of pleasure you hope to receive, do 
you not ? ” 

“No.” 

“ The amount of discomfort ? ” 

“No.” 

“ What then ? 

“ I am not obliged to say.” 

“Yes, you are. Rob, more pressure I ” 

“No, no, I’ll answer. Grace, why don’t you help 
me.? ” 

“ Grace has been lost in thought for the last hour ; 
let her alone. It is an experience she seldom en¬ 
joys. Answer my question 1 ” 

.“ What is it” ' 

“What do you take into consideration when de¬ 
ciding what society is to be labeled best ” 

“ I presume I think of the personal advancement 
to be gained. ” 

“Mentally.? ” 

“Not entirely.” 


THE CONWAYS. 


251 


Morally ? 

‘ ‘ Partly. 

‘‘What an awful fib !” exclaimed Rob. “Think 
of the moral influence of the Morgans, or the mental 
either, for that matter ! Do we invite them because 
of their ability to help us mentally or morally.? Oh, 
Zade, you make me very sick ! ” 

While Rob was engaged in endeavoring to strike 
an attitude which would give him the appearance of 
a physical wreck, Zana escaped to her own room, 
where she was immediately joined by Grace, who 
found her in tears. 

“ Why, Zana ! ” she said, “ do you care so much as 
that for the boys’ teasing ? ” 

‘ ‘ Rob is always saying mean things about the 
Morgans,” sobbed Zana. 

“ He did not say anything so very much worse 
than they deserve, did he .? ” 

“Grace, it is not like you to talk against the 
absent. You accept everything papa and Rob say 
about my friends, and my opinions are of no ac¬ 
count. ” 

‘ ‘ Doesn’t your father know the Morgans as well 
as you do ” 

“No, he does not. Papa is prejudiced. He’for- 
gets that he was young once, and does not excuse 
boyish follies in others. He expeote a boy to think 
just as he does about everything.” 

“Rob seems to agree with him regarding the 
Morgans, and Ned disliked Harry the first time he 
saw him. So did I.” 

“Why, pray.^” 


2^2 


THE CONWAYS. 


“Because he did not impress me as being honor¬ 
able. If he were as honorable as we would wish 
our brothers to be, he would never have said to you 
what he did last night. Think of Rob or Ned trying 
to persuade a girl to disobey her parents ! You knew 
Harry was wrong, else why did you not accept his 
proposition } ” 

“There have been many good men and women 
who ran away to be married.” 

“Are we taught to consider them models of pro¬ 
priety 1 ” 

“There is such a thing as thinking too much 
about propriety.” 

“ Not for girls of our age. Zana, I don’t like this 
sort of talk; it is disgusting ! Why should girls of 
sixteen think of beaux or marriage or any such non¬ 
sense } I feel as if I had lost my childhood since I 
came here, and I don’t like it.” 

“Mother was married before she was seventeen,” 
replied Zana. 

“And every day she says she wishes she had 
never married. My mother was twenty-six when 
she married, and I never heard her make a speech 
of fhat sort. ” 

“ Your mother and mine are different in every 
way.” ^ 

“ Mamma often tells me what a nice long period 
of girlhood she enjoyed, and how much girls miss 
by becoming young ladies too soon-” 

“ It would be nice to have a long girlhood if one 
had plenty of money, and could have a good time ; 
but it is horrid to be a poor girl, and see other girls, 


THE CONWAYS. 


253 


no better than we are, who have as much money as 
they can spend. I would rather be rich and mar¬ 
ried, than poor and free.’’ 

“ Are the Morgans very wealthy? ” asked Grace, 
suddenly. 

“ Very,” replied Zana, unguardedly. Lelia has 
more money to spend in one week than I have in a 
year. ” 

“Zana, you and Harry Morgan are engaged to 
be married, and you have denied it.” 

The conviction had come into Grace’s mind with 
such force that it almost seemed to speak itself, 
without thought on her part. 

“Are we?” asked Zana. Her manner was de¬ 
cidedly flippant, but her eyes blazed angrily. 

“ Are you not?” Grace spoke with an earnest¬ 
ness that Zana found uncomfortable. “ Perhaps it 
is none of my business,” she added, “ but it really 
seems as if it would be better for you to tell me. ” 

“ In order that I might receive your bless¬ 
ing ? ” 

“ That I might try to help you.” 

“Thanks; when I need your help I shall not 
fail to call for it. ” 

“ Zana, please don’t talk so ! Can’t you confide 
in me ? I have never yet proved unfaithful to you, 
and we are own cousins, yet you do not trust me 
as much as Helen does.” 

“ Nor do you trust me as you do Helen.” 

Zana’s manner was freezing, and Grace felt like 
letting her alone; but, on second thought, she 


254 


THE CONWAYS. 


decided that she ought to make one more attempt 
to gain her cousin’s confidence. 

“ If I did not think so much of you,” she said, “I 
should never again speak to you on this subject; 
but it breaks my heart to think that you may be in 
danger of doing what you will always be sorry for. 
Zana, please tell me truly; are you engaged to be 
married to Harry Morgan } ” 

“You have made the assertion, my dear cousin, 
and I am sure you may be trusted to find the proofs. 
When you have succeeded, you have my permission 
to go to my parents with your information. I know 
the permission is entirely unnecessary, but you have 
it, nevertheless.” 

Zana bowed obsequiously and left the room, 
blowing a kiss from the tips of her fingers to her 
cousin before closing the door behind her. It was 
a manner of showing anger that surprised Grace, 
and for a moment she sat perfectly still ; then, sud¬ 
denly arousing herself, she hurried to the door and 
called to Zana, who was half-way downstairs : 

“Zana!” The name was spoken in a tone of 
voice that demanded recognition. 

‘ ‘ Well.? ” asked Zana, looking back over her 
shoulder. She hoped Grace meant to try to coax 
her into a better frame of mind, as she had done 
before, when there had been a disagreement between 
them. 

“I wish to tell you,” said Grace, in a resolute 
tone, “ that I am going home.” 

“Going home! When.? Why should you do 
that ? What do you mean ? 


THE CONWAYS. 


255 


Zana turned and ran back to her room, dragging 
Grace with her. 

“I mean what I say—I am going home, but I 
must speak with Ned about it before I can tell you 
on what train I go. 

“ Pshaw, Grace ! You do not mean it. You 
ought not to take a little quarrel so seriously. I 
presume I said too much ; that is a fault I have, but 
you were aggravating, too.” 

“I have said nothing that I am not likely to say 
again,” replied Grace, seriously. ‘‘I do not seem 
to understand you, Zana, as well as I thought I did 
when you were at my house-” 

“Oh, I had nothing thereto bring out my bad 
qualities; you did not know me at all ! I have told 
you, more than once, that your opinion of me was 
better than I deserved.” 

There was a touch of earnestness in Zana’s voice, 
although she tried to speak as if she did not expect 
to be believed, and Grace’s generous, sympathetic 
nature was quick to notice it. Her heart prompted 
her to make up the quarrel, as she had done on pre¬ 
vious occasions, with loving assurances of her affec¬ 
tion for Zana; but her better judgment told her to 
cling to her first plan. 

“Zana,” she said, “I must be candid with you ; 
I should not feel right if I were otherwise. I think 
you have not been so with me, and I have become 
suspicious regarding a matter which concerns me 
only through my love for you. If I stay, I shall feel 
all the time as if I ought to do or say something 



256 


THE CONWAYS. 


about it, and so I think it will be best for me to go 
home.” 

“ But think of all the parties that are to be given 
in your honor ! ” 

“They form another reason why it would be bet¬ 
ter for me not to be here. I should not wear that 
dress again, or any other dress that does not be¬ 
long to me, and you would not be pleased to take 
me in what I have.” 

“ But just think what folks will say ! ” 

“ They may say what they please so far as I am 
concerned. I wish I had nothing more than that to 
worry about. ” 

While the girls were talking, Zana’s mind had been 
busy. She did not like to have Grace go home so 
soon, yet she could not but see that such a course 
would be an easy solution of more than one difficult 
question of which her cousin’s wardrobe was not the 
least. She knew that she could never feel perfectly 
willing to introduce Grace in a costume very differ¬ 
ent from those worn by her friends, and she was 
well enough acquainted with Grace to be sure that 
she had really decided to wear her own dresses in 
the future, or remain at home. At sixteen, such 
questions are of far greater importance than they 
seem a few years later, and Zana must not be blamed 
too severely for her weakness in the matter. In 
addition to those considerations was the thought 
that, should she agree to the plan Harry had outlined 
in his note, she would leave her home forever in a 
little more than a week ; in that case it would be 
better if Grace were not there, not only because Zana 


THE CONWAYS. 


257 


would be sorry to treat her so impolitely, but be¬ 
cause Grace might interfere with her plans in a 
manner most annoying. 

Zana was not yet sure that she meant to run away 
with Harry. She knew that she did not wholly ap¬ 
prove of him ; neither did she like to do what would 
grieve her family, as she was sure such a step would 
be likely to do. She had been engaged to him for 
several months. The engagement had been entered 
into because she was attracted by the novelty of the 
situation, not because she really cared for Harry or 
expected to marry him. Now, he offered her a choice 
between marrying him as he proposed, or breaking 
the engagement. She did not disguise from herself 
the fact that she would accept the latter without hesi¬ 
tation, if it were not for her dislike of poverty and 
for the fascination of the life she pictured as wife 
of a man who could have all the money he wanted. 
She knew there were quite a number of her girl com¬ 
panions who would be delighted with the prospect 
of becoming the daughter-in-law of the wealthiest 
man in their set, and she liked to think how they 
would envy her ! Poor, silly Zana ! She was beset by 
temptations that have proven too strong for many a 
girl, whose life is not devoted to some object worth 
striving for, and whose training has not impressed 
upon her mind the fact that money cannot buy the 
best that life can give. She offered some, indeed 
many, weak objections toGraces proposed plan, but 
she could not successfully disguise the fact that the 
thought of it really brought her more of relief than 
regret. 


17 


THE CONWAYS. 


258 

After making a poor attempt to converse on other 
topics, as if nothing had happened, Grace excused 
herself and went in search of Ned. She found him 
in the library, where he usually spent his time when 
alone. 

‘‘ Hello, Sis ! ” he exclaimed, as Grace entered the 
room, ‘ ‘ IVe been wishing you’d put in an appearance. 
Suppose we go sight-seeing this afternoon. ” 

“ Ned, I want to go home ! ” 

“ You do ! ” 

“Yes ; just as soon as we can start ! ” 

“ What do you mean } Have you heard bad—is 
mother-” 

“ It has nothing to do with home ; it is something 
else. Please don’t ask me ! When can we start ? ” 

“ See here, young lady ! Do you think I’m going 
to be dragged around the country with my eyes 
shut ? I insist on knowing the meaning of your 
sudden change of plans. ” 

“ I think I ought not to tell you, Ned. Believe 
me, I have a good reason. ” 

“ And believe me, you might better make it 
known ! ” 

Ned spoke lightly, but Grace knew he meant what 
he said, and that he would not take a step until he 
knew why she insisted upon it. It was a recognized 
fact among those who knew Ned well, that he could 
never be induced to do a thing until he understood 
why it was to be done. 

“ I should like to tell you, Ned, but it concerns 
another.” 

“You can trust me, Grace.” 




4 



















































































Tt. 





THE CONWAYS. 


259 


“ I know I can. Well, listen.” 

Grace told her brother of the conversation she had 
overheard at the party, of the meeting she had wit¬ 
nessed between Zana and Harry, and what had just 
taken place between Zana and herself. 

“ I should not think of going home,” she con¬ 
cluded, “ if I could do any good here ; but I can’t. 
Zana says there is nothing between her and Harry, 
and is offended because I do not quite believe her, 
and I can’t help feeling that she has not told the 
exact truth.” 

Ought you not to speak to Uncle William about 

it.? ” 

“ What can I say .? I really have no definite in¬ 
formation. Zana may simply be indulging in what 
she calls fun, and I think neither Uncle William nor 
Aunt Eveline would be disposed to think it of much 
consequence. When can we go home } ” 

“ Not this evening, because we should not have 
time to get our things together,” said Ned, thought¬ 
fully. 

“Then you think it would be best for us to go ? ” 

“To be sure I do. Suppose we start to-morrow 
night. ” 

“ That will suit me.” 

“ Can’t we see something of the city between now 
and then ? Give the rest of your time to me, won’t 
you r 

“Yes, I will. I don’t care whether the others like 
it or not. I’ll go and put on my street suit and we’ll 
start at once. I shall be glad to get away from 
every one but you.” 


26 o 


THE CONWAYS. 


As Grace was about to leave the room, the servant 
brought a letter from her mother. 

“I cannot write at length, dear children,” she read 
aloud to Ned, “ because Mrs. Dayne is very ill, and 
I am giving her as much of my time as I can. If 
she does not improve, I shall send for Helen before 
long. I miss you more and more as the days go by, 
but don’t let that shorten your visit. I presume I am 
selfish to mention it. 

“Your Loving Mother.” 

“Now we have a good reason for going home ! ” 
said Grace ; “I must help take care of Mrs. Dayne. 
I am glad to have a reason, for I have wondered 
how we could end our visit so abruptly without mak¬ 
ing unpleasant explanations.” 

At dinner Ned announced that Grace and himself 
intended to start for home on the following evening. 
Aunt Eveline and Rob had been told by Zana of their 
sudden resolution, while their cousins were sight¬ 
seeing, and in answer to their inquiries as to their 
reason, had said that she did not know, but thought 
it was caused by their old-fashioned prejudice against 
evening dresses. 

“Going to-morrow!” exclaimed Mr. Conway; 
“for what reason } ” 

“They do not like our style of entertainment,” 
interrupted Aunt Eveline in a tone of well-bred dis¬ 
gust. “Your brother and his wife must be ridicu¬ 
lously puritanic in their notions, William. I never 


THE CONWAYS. 


261 


saw young people so utterly ignorant of society con¬ 
ventionalities ! ” 

Mr. Conway did not reply to his wife, but turned 
toward his niece. 

“ Grace, tell me why you are going.?” he said, 
regarding her with a searching glance that reminded 
her of her father, when he thought there was an in¬ 
dication of rebellion against his authority on the 
part of one of his children. “Is it on account of 
your wardrobe, or simply because you do not enjoy 
city pleasures ? ” 

Grace hesitated. ‘ ‘ There are a number of reasons, 
uncle,” she said, finally ; “perhaps you would con- , 
sider none of them of sufficient importance to account 
for our sudden determination. I think I do not enjoy 
balls very much, although I might, if I could dress 
as I please without being criticized, and dance with 
no one but Rob and Ned. But that is not my only 
reason. The mother of my dearest friend is very 
sick, and my mother is helping to care for her. I 
think I ought to be at home to help, not only because 
it is Helen’s mother, but because mamma will be 
obliged to work too hard if I am not there.” 

“Grace, your mother ought to feel proud of so 
unselfish a daughter. I should be, I know.” 

“It is too bad that your own daughter is so un- 
satis%j^ti^y;,” replied Zana, coldly. “Perhaps she 
will not troiible you much longer, however.” 

Zana left the room abruptly, and Grace looked at 
her uncle in alarm. 

“ Oh, Uncle William !” she exclaimed, “I wish 
you had not said that.” 


262 


THE CONWAYS. 


“ It will do her good.” 

“She may make it an excuse to leave home. 
You heard what she said.” 

Uncle William laughed. “She has threatened to 
relieve us other presence ever since she learned to 
talk,” he replied. “ You must learn that Zana is not 
to be taken seriously, when she is out of temper. ” 

“Still,” persisted Grace, “I believe Zana thinks 
you do not love her very much—not as papa loves 
me—and that you would not be sorry if she were to 
go away, that is, if she were not in trouble. She 
told me so once, when she was not out of temper, 
and I felt so sorry for her ! I don’t know what I 
should do if I were not sure that papa and mamma 
missed me every minute I am away from home.” 

Mr. Conway made no reply, and Grace was afraid 
the words which she had found so hard to speak 
might make a greater misunderstanding between 
Zana and her father, instead of influencing them to 
treat each other with more affection. 

“ If Zana loved Uncle William as I love papa,” she 
had thought, “ she could not do a thing which would 
hurt him, as he would be hurt should she run away 
with Harry.” 

The remainder of the meal was eaten in silence, 
and Grace was glad when it was finished, and she 
could go to her own room to pack her trunk. 

“Grace,”'said Ned, who had followed her, “are 
you sure you are doing right in not telling uncle.?” 

“Have I a right to tell what I do not know to be 
true ? Zana says I am mistaken, and I have no 
proofs to the contrary.” 


The cohways. 


263 


“ I can^t bear to think of Zana with that puppy ! 
I should like to take him by his heels and snap his 
head off! What can she see in him to tolerate ? ” 
“The Morgan money attracts her, I think. Zana 
is not half so nice here, as she was at our house. I 
believe it is the result of this artificial way of living. 
If I were to stay here a month Ishouldbe as nervous 
as—as Aunt Sara is. 

“You would get used to it after awhile, and be 
yourself. I do not see the necessity of changing 
one’s character with one’s surroundings.” 

“ I know you don’t, Ned, and that makes me feel 
all the worse about that party dress. ” 

“Let us hear no more about that party dress,” 
said Ned, placing his hand over his sister’s mouth. 

While Ned and Grace were talking together before 
the half-packed trunk, Rob and Zana were quarrelling 
in the sitting-room. 

“I told you they were too sensible to enjoy our 
ridiculous puppet shows, ” said Rob. ‘ ‘ Why couldnff 
you have listened to me, and entertained them de¬ 
cently, as they did us ! ” 

“Grace wanted to see something of city life.” 
“And you showed her its weakest side. There 
are so many things in the city which they would 
have found entertaining and instructive, and of which 
they have seen comparatively nothing. All of our 
time was given to that party, and what did it amount 
to ? But what else have you been doing ? I know 
by the way you and Grace looked at the table 
to-day that something has gone wrong between 


264 


THE CONWAYS. 


“And if there has, am I obliged to confess to 
you ? ” 

“Not obliged, but if you should, I might be able 
to act as peacemaker. Zana, we had a glorious 
time at Oakwo.od ! Think how we are showing our 
appreciation. I would try to persuade Ned to give 
up this notion, but I am sure he is acting to please 
Grace, and that she is bent on going because of 
something between you. ” 

“You are at liberty to ask her for an explanation. 
I have nothing more to say.” 

“Well, I have ! Since you cannot show proper 
hospitality to the guests I care for, I no longer hold 
myself under bonds to treat your friends, the Mor¬ 
gans, with respect. I have refrained from telling 
Harry Morgan what I think of him, simply because 
you seemed to wish to be on intimate terms with the 
family. Now, I shall not take pains to hide my 
feelings, or to leave him in doubt as to my reason 
for staying away from their party. ” 

“Are the Morgans to give a party” asked Mr. 
Conway, who had listened without comment to the 
quarrel between his children. Quarrels were of too 
frequent occurrence in that house to attract much 
attention. 

“Yes, sir,” replied Rob, “and we are invited.” 

“Well.?” 

“ I am not going.” 

“And you, Zana? ” 

“ I have not decided.” 

“How can you go without Rob?” asked Mrs. 
Conway, hastily. She wished, if possible, to pre- 


THE CONWAYS. 265 

vent her husband from issuing the command which 
she knew he had in mind. 

‘ ‘ If my brother refuses to go with me, I presume 
there are others who will be glad to accompany 
me. 

“No one will accompany you there, Zana!” Mr. 
Conway spoke with unusual sternness. “I desire 
you never to go to their house, never again to invite 
them here, and to have nothing more to do with 
any member of that family. 

“William, you are speaking hastily. The Mor¬ 
gans are invited everywhere, and when our children 
meet them, as they must, unless they stay closely at 
home, they will be obliged to treat them politely. 
You have never before interfered in theif plans ; why 
do you now .?'' 

' ‘ I presume it is because I cannot be blind to the 
fact that my children do not compare favorably with 
my brother’s children. I had not supposed there 
could be so great a difference in young people of 
the same age. I never in my life opened my eyes 
to a more unpleasant fact. Since forced to acknowl¬ 
edge it, I have tried to find a reason, and have 
decided that it lies partially in my children’s asso¬ 
ciates, partially in the shallowness of the life we are 
allowing them to lead.” 

“ Father, in what way am I different from Ned ? ” 
asked Rob. “I know I am different; but in what 
way.? ” 

“ If you have found out for yourself that there is 
a difference, my son, there is good reason to sup¬ 
pose that you will soon discover in what way.” 


266 


THE CONWAYS. 


Mr. Conway went out of the house, leaving his 
wife and children sitting in silent astonishment. 
They had never before been so severely criticized by 
him. 

“Well! ” exclaimed Zana, who was first to break 
the unpleasant silence, “it is intensely gratifying 
to have a father who loves his children as we are 
loved.” 

“Don’t mind what he has said!” replied Mrs. 
Conway. “I presume he is troubled with an at¬ 
tack of indigestion, and will feel better in a few 
days. Regarding the Morgans, it will^be wiser to 
say nothing more about them, until I have time to 
talk with your father alone. You will be obliged to 
meet them, of course ; but there is really no reason 
why you should treat them with marked friendli¬ 
ness. ” 

Rob made no response, but when, a few moments 
later, he joined Ned, who was packing his trunk, 
his face was unusually thoughtful. 

“ Well, old fellow 1 ” he said, trying to speak with 
his accustomed cheerfulness, “this is pretty busi¬ 
ness, isn’t it ? ” 

“Fine, sir, fine!” exclaimed Ned, from the 
depths of the trunk. 

“I hate to have you go, Ned, but I suppose it is 
useless to try to persuade you-” 

“Don’t try!” interrupted Ned, quickly. “I 
shouldn’t know what to say, and I don’t want to 
say it, anyhow ! ” 

“It looks very much as if we had not tried to 
entertain-” 




THE CONWAYS. 


267 


“Bosh! old man, must I choke you the last 
thing before leaving? What’s the matter with 
Robert Conway ? ” 

“ He’s all right 1 ” replied Rob, with true political 
enthusiasm. Both boys laughed, and the subject 
was dropped, as if by mutual consent. 


268 


THE COjVJVAVS. 


CHAPTER XIX. 

On the morning of the fifth day of January, Mrs. 
Charles Conway was hurrying to get her work done 
before her husband came home to dinner. She was 
late about it, for she had watched with ]\Irs. Dayne 
all night, and had taken a little nap immediately 
after breakfast. She was dusting the piano, with 
her back turned toward the door, when she was 
startled almost out of her usual self-control by a 
gloved hand which suddenly covered her eyes. 

“Mercy!” she exclaimed, struggling to pull the 
hand away. 

“Guess who!” exclaimed a merry voice, and 
she felt herself pressed close against somebody’s 
shoulder. 

“Take your hand from my eyes, Ned!” was her 
next exclamation. “ I want to know why you are 
here. ” 

Ned released her, and the next moment she had 
one arm around him, the other around Grace, and 
was trying to tell them, between kisses, how glad 
she was to have them home again. 

‘ ‘ I think you have needed us, ” said Grace. “You 
look completely worn out. Why did you not send 
for me as soon as Mrs. Dayne was taken sick ? ” 

‘ ‘ She was taken the day you left for Chicago, and 


THE CONWAYS. 269 

every day since then we have been hoping she 
would be better. She has wished to see you. ” 

‘‘Did Nellie Raleigh stay with her at night, as 
she promised } ” 

“Yes, and during the day as well, when she 
could. Nellie has done more than she promised 
you she would do. ]\Irs. Dayne seemed much 
better this morning. Now, my children, tell me 
why you came home so unexpectedly. '' 

“Oh, mamma!” exclaimed Grace, “you can't 
think how good it seems to be with some one to 
whom I am sure I ought to tell it.” 

“To whom you ought to tell everything, 
dear,” replied Mrs. Conway, patting her daughter's 
cheek. 

Mrs. Conway seated herself on the sofa, and drew 
her children to seats on either side of her, that she 
might hold a hand of each while she talked with 
them ; then Grace told her of the incidents of the 
visit in the city, with frequent interruptions from 
Ned. The recital was hardly completed, when Mr. 
Conway's step was heard on the porch. 

“There comes papa ! ” exclaimed Grace, running 
to meet him. 

“And dinner isn’t ready,” said Mrs. Conway. 

“What’s that about dinner .? ” asked Mr. Conway 
from the hall. “I am nearly starved.” 

‘ ‘ It isn’t ready, papa ! ” said Grace, throwing 
both arms around her father’s neck. 

“What in time does this mean, you little 
witch .? ” 

“ It means that I am at home again ; what do you 


270 


THE CON WAVE. 


suppose ? What have you to say about it any¬ 
how ? 

“I thought we were rid of you for a month," he 
replied, trying to look annoyed. After giving his 
daughter what he termed a good old-fashioned bear 
hug, he turned to Ned, to whom he spoke in as stern 
a voice as he could command. Young man,” he 
said, “ give an account of yourself, if you please ! ” 
And then he forgot all about trying to be dignified 
or annoyed or stern or anything else except very 
glad to have his children with him, and kissed his 
big boy quite as tenderly as he could have done 
when he was a baby. 

“Isn’t it nice to have them back again !” ex¬ 
claimed Mrs. Conway, with a smile that was half 
fears. “You can’t think how we have missed you, 
my children.” 

“We will not spend time thinking of it now, 
Marie,” replied Mr. Conway, “but in being thank¬ 
ful that we are all together again.” 

“Oh, dear, the dinner !” exclaimed Mrs. Conway, 
in sudden dismay. 

‘ ‘ What is the trouble with it } ” asked her hus¬ 
band. 

‘ ‘ It isn’t cooked ! I was late with my work, and 
when the children came-” 

“I understand. Can’t we get a lunch for our¬ 
selves } Come, children, let us see what we can find. 
Your mother has been working entirely too hard of 
late.” 

“You don’t take as good care of her as we do,’^ 
replied Ned, saucily. 



THE CONWAYS. 


27 I 

The family marched to the dining-room, where 
Mrs. Conway straightened the table-cloth, while Mr. 
Conway and his children went in search of some¬ 
thing to eat, returning with such a variety that Mrs. 
Conway declared it could never be arranged to look 
at all tempting. 

“Give it up.?” asked Ned. “Then I’ll fix it in 
fine style ! ” 

Ned had been quite successful in his search for 
doughnuts and cranberry jelly, a combination which 
he declared to be food fit for the finest king that ever 
sat on a throne, and now he proceeded to arrange 
the table with all his favorite dishes within easy 
reach of his own plate. 

What a happy family it was that gathered around 
that table ! Grace and Ned thought of their expe¬ 
rience of the last few days, and knew that they 
realized, as they never had before, how much cause 
for thankfulness they had. “In all the world,” they 
thought, “there is nothing so desirable as a pleasant 
home ; ” and they silently resolved to try harder than 
ever before to contribute their share to the home 
happiness. 

“ How is it, my son .? ” said Mr. Conway, when he 
had been told the cause of his children’s unexpected 
return. “ Do you feel as if you had seen enough of 
city life .? ” 

“I have seen little of it, I presume, sir,” replied 
Ned, “ but I have had quite enough of the kind of life 
my cousins led while we were there. ” 

“Then you want to go back again ? ” 

“Some day, perhaps, under more favorable cir- 


272 


THE CONlVAys. 


cumstances. It would be fine fun to go with you and 
mother ! I don’t believe we saw the best of city 
life, but only a miserable little portion of it, which is 
not worth striving for.” 

“And, papa,” added Grace, “they strive, and 
worry, and make one another and themselves just 
as uncomfortable as you can imagine ! I should 
hate to be obliged to spend all my life so foolishly.” 

“Mother,” asked Ned, suddenly, “did you ever 
dance .? ” 

“Yes, my son.” 

“Why did you never tell me about it ” demanded 
Grace. 

“It is something of which I am not very proud,” 
replied Mrs. Conway, with a smile. 

“Why didn’t you tell me that, then } ” 

“It was forgotten, until one day I heard you 
wishing that you might have such pleasures as your 
cousins enjoyed. I should have told you, then, how 
little pleasure such things had afforded me, but you 
were in no mood to receive such information as I 
should have wished. I think you would have felt 
that I had forgotten the longings of a girl, and that 
you would prefer to gain some experience for your¬ 
self ” 

“Well, mamma, I’ve had it. I would not ex¬ 
change places with Zana for anything in the 
world. ”' 

Before the family had finished their dinner, a meS' 
senger came with word that Mrs. Dayne was worse 
and wished to see Mrs. Conway. 

“ Let me go,” pleaded Grace. “ I’ve had a little 


THE CONWAYS. 


273 


experience as nurse since I left home, and I am 
sure I can take care of Mrs. Dayne. You need 
rest. ’’ 

“You may go with me, daugl:fter, and if Mrs. 
Dayne is not very much worse I will leave you 
there, and come home again. Poor woman ! She 
needs a trained nurse. I wish we could afford to 
hire one for her for a few days ; but our expenses 
have been heavy this year.” 

“ How much-” began Ned, then stopped 

abruptly, remembering that his money had been 
lent to Grace, and that the generous impulse which 
prompted the question must be put aside. The 
brother and sister exchanged glances. Ned smiled, 
but Grace thought of the pink fan, gloves, slippers, 
etc., and her eyes filled with tears. 

“What a wicked waste of money ! ” she thought; 
“audit would be such a help to mamma as well as 
IMrs. Dayne, if we only had it now.” 

jMrs. Dayne was much worse, and, after a brief 
consultation, a telegram was sent to Helen to come 
home at once. 

“Will she die.?” asked .Grace, with quivering 
lips. 

“We hope not,” replied the doctor, “but she is 
very sick. You may go in, now, to see her, if you 
think you can control yourself. She must not know 
how sick she is, or that we have sent for Helen.” 

iMrs. Dayne was very glad to see Grace, and wel¬ 
comed her warmly. “ It is almost as good as hav¬ 
ing Helen here,” she said. 

“Then you will let me stay and take care of you, 
18 



274 


THE CONWAYS. 


won’t you?” asked Grace, eoaxingly. ‘'Mamma 
thinks I do not know enough, but I am sure I can 
obey the doctors orders to the letter.” 

“I’ll trust yoIf; my dear,” replied Mrs. Dayne, 
“ and I shall be happier than I can tell to have you 
with me. Your sunshiny face is worth more than a 
great many bottles of medicine.” 

‘ ‘ Thanks ! ” exclaimed the doctor, with a smile. 
“I will give you some bitter medicine to pay for that, 
my lady ! No, on second thought, I will forgive 
you, for you are not the only one who is glad to 
have Grace home again.” 

“ It is nice of you to say so,” replied Grace, “ but 
I don’t know why you should. I wonder if all 
doctors flatter girls whom they have known from 
babyhood? ” 

Grace was well aware that she was not blessed 
with the talent she admired in others ; but she was 
quite blind to the fact that she possessed one of the 
greatest of talents—the ability to help and comfort, 
and give happiness to others. She sometimes 
longed to be a great musician, and did not know that 
few days passed in which there was no record of 
some tired heart where she had set the sweetest 
music ringing. Sometimes she had almost envied 
Helen her talent for drawing, and once, after hear¬ 
ing Zana sing, she had complained, half laughing, 
half in earnest, because she had been born without 
a hint of genius in any direction. 

“Why should you wish to be a greater somebody 
than you are,” asked Ned. “You could not rule 
your family and friends any more tyrannically than 


THE CONWAYS. 


275 


you do now, if you were the greatest artist that ever 
lived ! ” 

Ned’s words were commonplace and lightly 
spoken, but there was no one who knew Grace but 
understood and indorsed all that they implied. 


276 


THE CONWAYS. 


CHAPTER XX. 

Grace did not leave Mrs. Dayne again, except 
when her mother came and insisted on her taking 
needed rest. She wanted to fill the place of the 
trained nurse, who could not be hired because 
Ned’s money had been spent foolishly. She also 
wished to take Helen’s place, in so far as that was 
possible, not only because of her friendship for 
Helen, but because she loved Mrs. Dayne. She was 
a nurse by nature, as Aunt Sara had discovered, 
and she succeeded so well in her attempt, that Mrs. 
Dayne could not bear to have her leave the room. 
She did not find the task she had set for herself an 
easy one, by any means, but no one could have 
found fault with the way she performed it. One 
night Mrs. Dayne awakened suddenly from a light 
sleep, and held out her hand to Grace. 

“You are tired, dear, aren’t you ? ” she asked. 

“Not very,” replied Grace. “You have had a 
nice nap, Mrs. Dayne; can you not take another?” 

‘ ‘ What time is it, Grace ? ” 

“Half-past three; it will soon be morning. Try 
to go to sleep again. Shall I rub your head ? ” 

“Grace, I wish you would send for Helen.” 

“Not on my account, Mrs. Dayne,” replied Grace, 
quickly, thinking her patient was worrying, as she 


THE CONWAYS. 


277 


usually did when she feared she was causing trouble 
to another. “I am really not very tired.’’ 

“Not on your account, dear, for I shall not need 
care long, but on Helen’s. I am not going to get 
well. ” 

“Sick people always have that thought, do they 
not.? ” 

Grace smiled as she asked the question ; but her 
heart grew very heavy. 

“ Will you not send a telegram as early as possi¬ 
ble in the morning.? If Helen does not come 
very soon, she will not find me here. I know it, 
Grace. ” 

There was a solemnity in Mrs. Dayne’s voice and 
in her eyes that went straight to Grace’s heart. She 
reminded herself of her duties as a nurse, and tried 
to appear as she had read that a nurse should, when 
her patient was given to melancholy questions ; but 
in vain. Her love for Helen and her mother made 
it quite impossible for her to control her feelings, 
and, burying her face in Mrs. Dayne’s pillow, she 
burst into tears. 

“Oh, don’t say that, Mrs. Dayne,” she sobbed. 
“You must get well! Think of poor Helen ! ” 

“Dear, I have thought of nothing else for days 
and days. That is why I want to see her before I 
go.” 

“She is coming, Mrs. Dayne. She maybe here 
to-morrow. ” 

“Coming ! Then you have known-” 

“The doctor thought she might better be sent 
for,” Grace interrupted, “but he still hopes to see 



278 


THE CONWAYS. 


you well. He said you were ever so much better 
last nig-ht.” 

“ I do have less pain. I am so glad Helen is 
coming ! Perhaps I shall not suffer as I have during 
the rest of my stay here, and Helen and I can enjoy 
our last talks together.” 

“Oh, Mrs. Dayne, please don’t! ’ Grace’s eyes 
were overflowing again. 

“My child, I wish you would not take it so. 
Think of me as going on a little journey, which you 
will take one day, and let us talk about it as if we 
were to meet again very soon. ” 

“I can’t 1 It is too dreadful I You must get well ; 
you really must, and you never can if you allow 
yourself to hb so despondent. Think of Helen—how 
much she needs you—and resolve to live for her 
sake. I have heard mother tell of people who have 
become well when the doctors had given them up, 
simply because they would not die.” 

“I want to die, my dear. Helen does not need 
me very much now. She will miss me, I know; 
but there is no way in which I can be of great assist¬ 
ance to her, and I long for rest. Helen will under¬ 
stand, for she knows, as no one else does, how 
hard life has been for me since her father died.” 

“ It will be easier, soon. Helen will be in a posi¬ 
tion to help you.” 

“I am glad she decided to become an engraver, 
but she has a harder battle before her than you think. 
It will be easier without me. I have taught her all 
I know of life, and could not give her more help in 
that way, and I long to go.” 


THE COJVIVAYS. 


279 

“Oh, Mrs. Dayne, it would break Helen’s heaft 
to hear you talk like this.” 

“She will understand, dear; Helen and I always 
understand each other. She will miss me, but she 
will be glad that I am once more with her dear father. 
Grace, you cannot think how hard life has been 
since he died. It will seem so good to be at rest. ” 

As Mrs. Dayne talked, Grace found herself grow¬ 
ing quieter. She had always had a dread of death, 
and put the thought of it away from her whenever 
possible ; now she listened to Mrs. Dayne with a 
wonder from which all awe was fast disappearing. 
They talked together very freely from that hour, and 
Grace realized more and more keenly how brave a 
battle had been fought by the delicate woman in her 
effort to live without assistance and educate her 
child. She also realized that much of the bitterness 
which had fallen heavily upon the shrinking nature, 
had been dealt out by women. 

“Just such women as Aunt Eveline!” thought 
Grace, recalling the scene with the hired woman 
who had made her party dress. “Just such a 
woman as I will never be 1 ” she added, passion¬ 
ately. Then followed one of her customary little 
talks with her Heavenly Father. 

“Dear Father in Heaven,” she whispered, “if 
ever I deal thoughtlessly with one of your poor 
children who must work against such terrible odds, 
I pray Thee send me a swift punishment, that will 
make me remember the vow I have taken to¬ 
night. ” 

Ned went to the depot to meet Helen. 


28o 


THE CONWAYS. 


“How is mother?” was the first question asked 
by the poor child so soon to be orphaned. 

“Better, I think,” replied Ned, cheerfully. “She 
has rested much easier during the last thirty-six 
hours. Come in here, Helen,” leading the way to a 
drug store ; “I want to get you a.glass of hot beef- 
tea.” 

“No, thanks, Ned. Really, I cannot eat a 
mouthful.” 

“I don’t ask you to eat,” Ned replied, taking 
Helen’s arm, “ but it won’t hurt you to drink a little 
beef-tea. You have had a long ride, and must take 
some nourishment before you walk another step. 
You know what it means when I say must.” 

Ned had his way, as he usually did when deter¬ 
mined. 

“ Grace is with mother, I suppose ? ” asked Helen, 
while waiting for the beef-tea. 

“She has been there night and day since we 
returned from the city. ” 

“I knew it ! She is the best friend a girl ever 
had. ” 

“And the best sister in the world ! ” added Ned. 

They walked in silence the rest of the way to 
Helen’s home. Ned knew that Helen’s mind must 
be busy with thoughts of her mother, and he was 
too thoughtful to make her talk on that, or other 
subjects. When they reached her door, he said : 

“You know how glad I shall be to have you tell 
me when you wish anything done.” 

“I know, Ned. Thank you. There is no one 
but your family whom I could tell.” 


THE CONlVAyS. 


281 


Ned raised his hat, and turned away, and, at that 
moment, Grace opened the door for Helen. 

‘ ‘ She is better, dear, and waiting to see you ! ” 
was Grace's greeting. Then she quickly removed 
Helen's hat and bathed her face with a handkerchief, 
dipped in cologne. 

Helen went alone to her mother's room, and, for 
more than an hour, no one was admitted ; then she 
came back into the room where Grace was sitting. 
Her eyes showed traces of recent tears, but her 
voice was as calm as it had always been. 

“Mother is sleeping," she* said. “ Grace dear, 
are you very tired " 

“ No, Helen ; why } " 

“I was wondering if you would stay with me 

until-" Helen's voice broke, and she could not 

finish the sentence. 

“I was wondering if you would let me stay," 
replied Grace, quickly. “ I do not want to leave 
you, Helen." 

“You are a good friend! " said Helen, simply. 

“Helen, I wish I could tell you how sorry I am." 

“ I know ; please don't talk to me like that, or I 
shall lose what little self-control I have. I must 
not spoil these last days with my mother by selfish 
sorrowing." 

“I don't see how you can bear it as you do 1 
You seem ever so much older and wiser than I. 
If it were my mother, I think I should die, too 1 " 

“ Grace, you don't know what it would be to you 
to see your mother obliged to work far beyond her 
strength, day after day, at an occupation which 



THE CONWAYS. 


2%1 

brought her continual insults from women who are 
not worthy to tie her shoe ! And to know that the 
insults must be borne quietly, else the work, which 
means bread and butter, would be withheld. You 
can never know one-half the unnecessary burdens 
my mother has been made to carry by the thought¬ 
lessness of the women who employed her. It seems 
to me, sometimes, that I shall never be able to for¬ 
give them.” 

Helen was pacing the floor, her strong, beautiful 
face alive with the intense emotion which was 
kept from her voice by her wonderful self-control. 
Grace had always known that her friend was differ¬ 
ent from other girls, but never understood the reason 
why until now. Her love for her own mother made 
it easy for her to understand how Helen had suf¬ 
fered in seeing her mother suffer. 

“ I hate them, to-day,” Helen said, and the words 
sounded curiously in the unnatural evenness of tone 
in which they were spoken. 

“I have not realized how good she is, until these 
last few days,” said Grace, thoughtfully, “although 
I have always loved her. I can’t feel reconciled to 
the thought that she must leave us, and just when 
you are getting able to make life easier for her. ” 

‘ ‘ Grace, mother is tired in a way that could not 
And rest in the easiest life on earth. The joy of 
living has all been taken away from her by the hard 
experiences of the last few years. She is beyond 
everything this life has to offer, and has been for a 
long time. It is something as it is with one who is 
ready for a ride, and the carriage is late; no matter 


THE CONWAYS. 


283 


how comfortable she might be,' she would have the 
feeling of expectancy and of impatience to be going, 
which would prevent her from enjoying her surround¬ 
ings. When I cry because my mother is going away 
from me it is a selfish sorrow. Grace, it must not be 
indulged ! Help me to be courageous ! ” 

“I will do what I can,” replied Grace, and then 
the two friends went back to the sick-room. 

During the days that followed, the three talked 
together very much as three friends would if one of 
them were about to start on a long earthly journey, 
and Grace felt herself lifted into an atmosphere so 
far above that of her uncle’s home, that the scenes 
through which she passed while there seemed far 
away, and as if participated in by some other girl 
than herself. She knew that those quiet hours in 
the sick-room, and the long, earnest talks, and the 
strange, new thoughts that had come to her during 
the last few days were helping to fit her for a broader 
life than she could find in the giddy whirl of what is 
known as fashionable society. 

Early one morning, Mrs. Dayne startled the girls 
by suddenly exclaiming, “ Helen, good-bye, dear ; I 
am going ! *’ 

“Not yet, mother!” Helen quickly raised her 
mother’s head to her shoulder, and began to kiss the 
pale cheek. “Oh, not yet 1 I am not ready-” 

‘ ‘ Dear little girl, it is all right—everything is all 
right 1 I see—oh, Helen, your father ! I am glad— 
very, very glad I ” A little sigh, a happy smile, and 
all was over. 

Mrs. Dayne had seemed better than usual during 



284 


THE CONWAYS. 


the night, cind the girls had hoped that she might be 
spared to them for some time. Not an hour before 
her death she had said that she felt almost as if she 
might be well again. 

“Oh, Mrs. Dayne,” Grace had answered, “how 
happy we should be ! ’’ 

“It would not please me, dear,” was the reply. 
“ Don’t wish it. ” 

A few moments later, when she and Grace were 
alone together, she said softly, “ I have wondered, 
Grace, if you and your mother are as near together 
as Helen and I have always been. Our close com¬ 
panionship has been the greatest comfort of my life, 
and when I am gone Helen will not have to reproach 
herself with the thought that she might have done 
one thing more than she did to add to my happiness. ” 

Now, with that still form lying before them, 
Grace repeated this to Helen, and it comforted the 
sorrowing girl as nothing else could. 

As soon as possible, Helen returned to her studies 
in New York city. It seemed to her, as it did to her 
friends, that it would be better for her to go to work 
again. Before her mother died, it had been decided 
that Helen should henceforth make her home with 
the Conways. Mr. Conway was appointed her 
guardian, and had been instructed by Mrs. Dayne to 
sell the home and use the proceeds towards paying 
Helen’s expenses at the art school. 

“If there is not enough to give her what knowl¬ 
edge she needs in her chosen work,” the mother, 
had said, “I should be glad if you could lend her 
money. You may rest assured that she will pay 


THE CONWAYS. 


285 


back every cent. I have talked with her about her 
work, and her knowledge of my strong desire that 
she should rise above mediocrity in it will over¬ 
come any feeling she may have against becoming 
your debtor.’' 

And so the next few years of Helen’s life were 
marked out for her, and we can leave her for the pres¬ 
ent, feeling sure that she will live them worthily. 


286 


THE CONWAYS. 


CHAPTER XXL 

Nearly three weeks had passed since Grace’s 
return from Chicago, and during that time she had 
hardly given Zana a thought. Her life in the sick 
room, with its uplifting influences, made it quite im¬ 
possible for her to see her experience of the city life 
in the light of reality. This was real; that seemed 
a fantastic play arranged for an hour’s amusement, 
but not worth a second thought. But, when Helen’s 
mother needed her care no longer, when Helen was 
gone, and nothing remained to take her attention, 
but the every-day duties and pleasures of her life at 
home, then she began again to think of Zana. She 
wondered why she had not , written, feared that all 
was not well with her, accused herself of having 
shirked a duty by not telling her uncle of her sus-’ 
picions, and in various ways made herself quite as 
uncomfortable as she had been in the city. Grace 
always found something in herself to condemn, but 
on this occasion her accusations were so numerous 
that there is no predicting what they might have 
driven her to do, had she not received a letter from 
Zana. 

“Dear Grace,” she read, “Papa is going to 
write to Uncle Charles to ask him to board Rob and 


THE CONWAYS. 


287 


me for a little while. Rob is wild with delight, as 
you will probably guess, and I, too, should be 
pleased if I could only know that you would be glad 
to see me. I did not treat you well when you were 
here, and I should not blame you for never wanting 
to see me again. Papa does not intend to tell Uncle 
Charles why he wishes us to go to Oakwood ; he 
will state, simply, that he thinks the surroundings 
there will be better for us for the next year. That 
is the truth, but only a part of it. Now, I will tell 
you the rest. I became engaged to Harry Morgan 
just before we went to Oakwood. I did not intend 
to marry him, but became engaged just for fun, as 
a great many of my friends have done. I said noth¬ 
ing about it at the time, for I really never expected 
to marry him, and I did not tell you, because I 
always found it hard to talk with you about such 
things; and then, I knew that you always tell your 
mother everything, and I did not care to have her 
know that. Harry wrote to me while I was at your 
house, and I found it interesting to receive and an¬ 
swer his letters, without any one’s knowledge. He 
writes nice letters, and somehow I got to thinking of 
him as being quite different from what I really knew 
him to be, and I liked him better when I came back 
home than I did when I went away. I did not see 
much of him before our party, as you know; per¬ 
haps it would have been better had I seen him 
oftener. You remember how hard we worked to 
get ready for the party, and how much annoyance I 
suffered on account of our lack of money. Every 
hour in the day something would happen which 


288 


THE CONWAYS. 


would make me think how much easier my life 
would be should I marry into a rich family, and 
then I would think of Harry’s nice letters, and 
especially of the passages in them where he had 
written of the fine times I would have as his wife. 
I think that, from the first, he was in earnest about 
the engagement. He knew that his father would be 
angry to have him marry me, for Mr. Morgan wishes 
both his children to marry into families wealthier 
than his. He also knew that my father did not like 
him, but he thought everything would end all right 
when we were married, and he made me think so 
too. The note you saw him give me was to 
acquaint me with the arrangements he had made for 
our elopement a week later. I told you the truth 
about that conversation you overheard, except that 
I did not tell what else was said. When you left us 
I had fully determined to run away with Harry, and 
that is why I did not urge you to stay. I knew it 
would be very unpleasant for you to be here during the 
disturbance my action would cause. Harry’s plans 
were not carried out as he expected, and we did not 
get away as soon as he hoped we would. Grace, he 
forged my father’s name in order to raise the money 
which was to pay our wedding expenses. He in¬ 
tended to forge his own father’s name, but for some 
reason did not find an opportunity. Of course, I 
was ignorant of all this. Father discovered the forgery 
on the very day we intended leaving, and gave the 
matter into the hands of a detective with instructions 
to find the guilty party. The Morgans had their 
party that night and I went without father’s per- 


THE CONWAYS. 


289 


mission, but Rob remained at home. I was glad, 
thinking myself in less danger of discovery, for we 
meant to leave that night for Wisconsin. Grace, 
Harry was arrested at one o’clock in the morning, 
just as we were getting on the train. Can you im¬ 
agine what I have suffered ? If so, you will think 
that my punishment has been hard enough to 
bear. I shall never forget it. We were taken to my 
father at once, and Mr. Morgan was sent for. I had 
packed my satchel and given it to Harry that after¬ 
noon, and I had it in my hand when the detective 
brought us before my father. If I had not been with 
him, Harry would have been taken to police head¬ 
quarters at once, but papa concluded to keep the 
matter as quiet as possible, on my account. I think 
my father will never forgive me. He does, not scold, 
nor has he said one word about it since that night, 
but he looks so sorry that he makes me hate myself, 
and I run to my room whenever I see him coming. I 
did not believe I could ever hate any one as I now 
hate Harry Morgan. Lelia told some of the girls that 
we tried to elope and were caught and brought home, 
and, although no one knows of the dreadful thing 
Harry did, I feel as if I should like to die whenever 
I hear my name mentioned in connection with his. 
Oh, Grace, just think what life would have been to 
me had we been married before I discovered what I 
know now ! I wish I had been brought up like 
you, to be more a child and less a fine young lady. 
It seems to me now as if I should never be happy 
again. For how can one be happy who has been 
so foolish ? 


19 


290 


TH3 CONWA VS. 


“ Now, you know the whole story ; do you utterly 
despise me ? I presume it will be a long time before 
you can feel that I am to be trusted, but I mean to 
prove to you that, although I have been very, very 
foolish, I am not wholly bad. 

“ From your cousin 

Zana.” 

The tears were running down Grace’s cheeks when 
she finished reading the letter. 

“ Mamma,” she said, “ I have told you the first of 
it, and you must know the last. Please read this. ” 

When Mr. Conway came home from his office, 
bringing the letter he had received from his brother, 
he found his wife and children planning how they 
might help Zana without humiliating her. 

“Then you know what William has written ? ” he 
asked. 

By way of reply, Mrs. Conway handed him Zana’s 
letter. 

“I thought,” he said, as he finished reading it, 
“ that something of the sort had occurred. I never 
read a more heart-breaking letter than William’s. 
I am very glad, my dear, that you have decided to 
let Rob and Zana come to us. If William’s wife had 
been like mine, he would not have needed to send 
his children away from home.” 

“If William had been like Charles,” responded 
Mrs. Conway, “he might, even then, have kept his 
children with him.” 

The same mail that carried a letter to Mr. William 
Conway, saying that Rob and Zana would be more 


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THE CONWAYS. 


291 


than welcome at Oakwood, carried to the shame- 
stricken girl in the city home, a very long and very 
tender missive full of assurances of Grace’s love and 
her delight over the prospect of their long visit 
together. 

“I wonder how long father intends to let us stay 
in Oakwood,” said Rob to his mother. 

“I don’t know, I am sure; for the rest of the 
season, I hope. By another winter this unfortunate 
affair will have been forgotten, and Zana may be 
able to make a good match. She has done enough 
to ruin our good name, and ought to try her best to 
retrieve herself” 

‘‘ Zana is not the only one to blame,” said Rob. 

‘ ‘ What is that ? ” asked his mother, quickly. 

“Oh, nothing! I wish I could know how many, 
and which, of my possessions I ought to find room 
for in this trunk. ” 

“What a saving it would have been if your father 
could have thought of this plan before we went to 
the trouble and expense of giving that party I ” 

‘ ‘ It makes me sick to hear the word party spoken I ” 
exclaimed Rob in a tone of disgust. “ I am glad we 
are going where we shall have something else to 
think about. ” 

Three days later Rob and Zana were again ad¬ 
mitted into the pleasantest home in the world, as 
the Conway family insisted on speaking of it. 

“ Oh, Aunt Marie ! ” sobbed Zana, hiding her face 
on her aunt’s shoulder, “what must you think of 
me !” 

“There are few of us, my dear, who have not at 


292 


THE CONWAYS. 


some time in our lives, done something for which 
we must always be sorry. I think such remem¬ 
brances may do more than anything else to help us 
turn our lives into paths of usefulness, if we will 
let them. You are too wise to let one act of folly 
spoil your life.” 

Mrs. Conway’s gentle voice and sweet smile were 
very comforting to Zana. She had feared her aunt’s 
disapproval, and dreaded a reprimand which ‘she 
knew she deserved, but now she thought, “Aunt 
Marie believes in me ! I will let her see that I am 
not entirely worthless, if I have appeared so.” 

Rob had crossed the room to join his aunt and 
Zana, and now stood with his arm thrown protect- 
ingly around his sister’s shoulders. 

“I told Zana you could help her,” he said, “ and 
that you would know that she was thoughtless—not 
any worse. The way father treated her made me 
angry ! I know I ought not to speak so, but he 
always deals out approval or condemnation by the 
wholesale, without regard to the motive governing 
the action. I love my father, but I love Zana better, 
and I understand her better, too. I knew just as 
soon as I heard of it, that Zana was simply thought¬ 
less. She has always been thoughtless, but I had 
not believed she would be carried away quite so 
completely.” 

“Zana has not had enough to think about,” said 
Mrs. Conway. 

“That is the trouble with both of us,” replied Rob. 
We have had no responsibility, nothing that we were 
obliged to do, and nothing to think about except 


THE CONWAYS. 


293 


society, and how to manage to put on more style 
than some of our friends. I think Oakwood fun and 
work has quite spoiled me for Chicago society and 
its ridiculous make-believes.” 

“You must remember, Rob,*’ interrupted Mrs. 
Conway, gently, ‘ ‘ that what you have been accus¬ 
tomed to is only a small part of city life. Under¬ 
neath the froth there are many lives devoted to noble 
purposes.” 

“ Well,” replied Rob, laughingly, “for my parti 
would rather hunt in Oakwood for lives devoted to 
noble purposes.” 

“Your father writes that you and Zana are to 
be treated as my own children,” said Mr. Conway ; 
“otherwise we could not have taken you, because 
Grace and Ned cannot live simply to have a good 
time, as they do when entertaining guests.” 

“I’m willing to do anything you say, just to be 
allowed to stay here, ” replied Rob, who was in high 
spirits, principally because Zana was looking happier 
than she had been for several days. 

“That is complimentary,” said Mrs. Conway, 
with a smile. 

“I’m jolly glad to be here. Aunt Mary. And 
now, sir,” to his uncle, “what do you mean to do 
with us ? ” 

“There is a young fellow reading law in my ofhce, 
who has just graduated with high honors from one 
of the best colleges in the East. He came West 
because his health has not been very good of late, 
but he is a devoted student. I shall engage him to 
prepare Ned for college, and I wish you to share 


294 


THE CONWAYS. 


Ned’s studies while here. You will also share his 
duties-” 

“ Good ! you’ve got to saw wood,” interrupted 
Ned, with a chuckle. 

“ I’ll go home to-night,” groaned Rob, in mock 
despair. 

‘/And clean the barn floor,” added Ned. 

“Never, sir, never! ” 

“ And take care of the horse, and make garden, 
and sweep walks, and care for father’s office, and 
collect his bills, and-” 

“What in time are you going to do .? ” 

“ Play gentleman I I’ve always wanted to show 
the world what a success I might be in that line.” 

“You will not play gentleman with my assist¬ 
ance, young man, just let me tell you that! Uncle 
Charles, what is to be done with Zana } ” 

“ Ask your aunt.” 

“I am going to see that law student, also,” re¬ 
plied Mrs. Conway. “I want my girls to share 
their brothers’ studies.” 

“ I see no reason why they should not,” said Mr. 
Conway. “ But what about the housework.? Are 
you to do more than you have been doing.? ” 

“We will do it all, won’t we, Zana,” said 
Grace. 

“ I don’t know how to do much of it, but I’ll do 
what I can,” replied Zana. “ Don’t you remember 
that cake I made .? ” 

“Why will you persist in reminding us of un¬ 
pleasant things? ” asked Ned. “We’ll find that, in 
the spring, just as it was when you threw it away. 




THE CONWAYS. 


295 

The snow of more than one winter will be required 
to soften it.” 

“If you are to be my girl,” continued Mrs. Con¬ 
way, “I shall insist on your learning how to keep 
house, and I should also like to have you learn a 
trade. ” 

“A trade! Why, Aunt Mary, do you think I am 
to earn my own living.? ” 

“ You may be obliged to do so some day.” 

“Is Grace to become self-supporting.? ” 

“Not much ! ” interrupted Ned. 

“We hope to keep Grace at home,” replied Mr. 
Conway. “I do not believe in girls becoming 
bread-winners unless they are obliged to ; they make 
life harder for more unfortunate girls. Besides, 
what is home without a daughter 1 Grace is one of 
the necessities of her mother s life and mine ; we 
need her daily presence in our home.” 

“It will be wise for her to have some occupation 
to depend upon, should she need it,” said Mrs. Con¬ 
way, “or in case she should grow to think this 
home too small-” 

“Mamma I ” Grace raised her finger threateningly, 
“ when I leave this home it will be when you send 
me away.” 

“Or when I do 1 ” added Ned. “I may not be 
reckoned among the daily necessities, but Tve come 
to stay, all the same. ” 

“And to be heard,” murmured Grace. 

“By the way, Ned,” said Rob, “how about the 
‘ Oakwood Transcript.? ’ ” 



296 


THE CONWAYS. 


“Come to the office, old chap, and find out for 
yourself. Come, girls!” 

The young people flocked to the editorial office, 
and were soon deep in a discussion regarding some 
proposed changes which they thought of making in 
the arrangement of the departments in their paper. 
Rob was assistant manager, once more ; Zana, asso¬ 
ciate editor. 

“From this time on,” said Ned, “ we must make 
our paper do more than pay expenses. ” 

‘ ‘ I wish we might, ” sighed Grace. ‘ ‘ I am so deep 
in debt 1 It will take my entire allowaftice for the 
next four months to make me square with the world, 
and where is my spring wardrobe to come from .? ” 

“I can lend you a little money,” said Zana, “ for I 
have decided to buy nothing new until I have worn 
out what I have.” 

“Zana economical 1 Is the world coming to an 
end.?” asked Rob, tragically. “Zana, me own 
dear loved one, is thy liver all right.? Tell me, 
sweetest tootsy-wootsy, that thou art not going to 
die. Tell me-oh, thunder 1 ” 

The last of Rob’s remark was forced from his lips 
by the application of a quantity of editorial paste, 
which was applied by Grace. It was the beginning 
of a romp which caused iMr. Conway to look at Mrs. 
Conway and ask if he ought not to insure the house 
against cyclones. 

“Let them romp,” was the reply; “the longer 
we can keep them children, the happier they will 
be.” 

A few weeks later, four heads were bent over a 



THE CONWAYS. 


297 

large book in which were kept the accounts of the 
“Oakwood Transcript.” 

“It is the first time,” said Ned, “that our paper 
has more than paid expenses. We have two dollars 
apiece, clear gain, and the prospect for next month 
is*^xcellent! ” 

“ Doesn’t it seem funny, Rob, to think you and I 
are earning money.? ” asked Zana. 

“It is downright satisfactory ! ” replied Rob. 

“ Helen’s illustrations are a great help in securing 
advertising,” said Ned, “ and advertising is what 
pays. We must write a company letter of thanks to 
Helen.” 

“How much more enterprising our paper looks, 
with its illustrated advertisements, than that little 
affair published down town ! ” Zana found a great 
deal of satisfaction in speaking scornfully of the 
village paper, which the Conways chose to consider 
as a rival. 

“ Another lot of blocks from Helen arrived this 
morning,” announced Grace. “ Among them is a 
very pretty one that I should think the milliner 
would be delighted to use.” 

“I’ll see her aboutit, to-day! ’’repliedNed, briskly. 
“ I have tried twice to get her ‘ ad.’ and failed both 
times; but I’ll get it this time, if I have to camp in 
her pantry over night 1 

“ Now that we have our books in order,” said 
Grace, ‘ ‘ I wish you would help me straighten out 
the accounts of the V. I. A. I hate book-keep¬ 
ing.” 

“ I don’t,” replied Zana ; “ it’s fun. I am going 


298 


THE CONWAYS. 


to take a course in book-keeping, if aunty will let 
me, then I can help papa when I go home. Pass 
the accounts this way, Grace.” 

“ While Zana is adding up those marks you call 
figures,” said Rob to Grace, “ suppose you listen to 
this.” 

Taking a paper from his desk, Rob read as follows : 

“ It has been a long time, dear fellow-citizens, 
since you have had the privilege of attending one 
of the fine entertainments given by the V. I. A. As 
was to be expected, such deprivation has left its 
mark upon you. You have grown sad-eyed, mor¬ 
bid, languid, dyspeptic ; you need bracing up. The 
entertainment to be given by the V. I. A. next Wed¬ 
nesday night can brace you up, if you will allow it to, 
as you have never before been braced. When these 
entertainments were postponed, no one dreamed 
that so long a time would elapse before they were 
again resumed ; such a dream would have been 
called a nightmare ! But, as has been proven, old 
Father Time had this unpleasantness in store for us. 
It has come and gone, and we have lived through it. 
Now, should we not show our gratitude for so 
merciful an extension of life by appearing in full force 
at that wonderful, health-giving entertainment, the 
‘ Conundrum social, and great American What-is-it ? ’ 
I will not refer to the object to be gained by the 
series of entertainments to be given between this 
and spring, but let your natural desire for health and 
long life help you to decide in our favor.” 

“Now, Grace, listen to this,” said Ned, when 
Rob had finished reading. “You, as editor-in-chief, 


THE CONWAYS. 


299 

must decide which of these articles shall appear in 
our paper.” 

Ned pulled his manuscript from his pocket, and 
read : “We call the attention of our readers to the 
fact that it is the ‘Oakwood Transcript,^ and not that 
little down-town sheet, which is not yet large enough 
to know its own name, it is the enterprising, pro¬ 
gressive, fifty-cent-a-year ‘Oakwood Transcript,' 
which brings the first news of the entertainment 
to be given by the V. 1. A. next Wednesday night. 
The writer wrote a descriptive adjective before the 
word entertainment, but with his usual power of fine 
discernment, quite wonderful in one so young, he 
decided that were all the glowing adjectives in the 
dictionary to be used, they could not adequately de¬ 
scribe an event of such magnitude, and the intrud¬ 
ing word was erased. Reader, you must see this 
entertainment for yourself. Admission only twenty- 
five cents. Maiden ladies, over forty years of age, 
half price ; bachelors, over forty, seventy-five cents. 
We do not wish to threaten, but think it only fair to 
state that there is talk of publishing, under the title 
‘Unpatriotic Citizens,'the names of all who do not 
buy tickets to at least three of the entertainments 
given by the V. I. A. between this and spring. At the 
close of the entertainment next Wednesday night, 
the executive committee of the V. I. A. will discuss 
the question, ‘ Shall the money to be earned by these 
entertainments be spent in improving the park, or in 
paving Main Street.?' The adults may listen to the 
discussion, but must remember that the time has now 
arrived when adults must be seen and not heard.” 


300 


THE CONWAYS. 


Ned folded his paper, and looked at Grace ex¬ 
pectantly. “ Which one.? he asked. 

“Neither,” she replied. “I can write a better 
article, myself.” 

“ Rob, it is very plain to me that there is soon to 
be a struggle in this office between the editors and 
managers. Right must prevail-” 

“Right will prevail,” interrupted Grace, “and 
those manuscripts will both go into the wastebasket. 
They lack dignity. If we expect to make our paper 
pay, we must try to give our readers something 
worth reading.” 

“How mercenary Grace is ! ” in an aside to Ned. 
“ She thinks only of making something pay.” 

“I presume she will behave in this unseemly man¬ 
ner until she is out of debt,” replied Ned. “ If we 
expect to have any fun, I presume we shall have to 
pay her debts first ! ” 

‘ ‘ Boys, my debts do not make one bit of difference. 
We are going to do our best to get out a good paper. 
I think papa will not be pleased unless we do. ' Be¬ 
sides, I think of becoming a journalist in earnest, 
some day, and wish, now, to do the best I can.” 

“The most successful journalist is the one who 
writes bright articles, ” replied Rob. 

“A bright article does not need to be undignified,” 
retorted Grace. 

“You have made us desperate,” said Ned, “ and 
desperate men take desperate measures. The ad¬ 
vertising space in this paper is under the control 
of your noble brother. No one can say me nay, 
should I conclude to leave out some of the advertis- 



THE CONIVAYS. 


301 

ing and insert both Rob’s article and mine in the 
next issue of our paper.” 

“Let’s do it, Ned !” exclaimed Rob. “It will 
give us fine positions for advertising right next to our 
articles, and we can charge extra to make up 

for the space we use. ” 

It began to look as if the boys had the best of it, • 
and Grace concluded to say no more, but to consult 
with Zana when they were alone, and contrive some 
T)lan for outwitting their brothers. 

That night, as the girls were getting ready for bed, 
Grace said, “Are you homesick, Zana dear?” 

“ Homesick ! No, indeed. What put that thought 
into your head ? ” 

“You have been very quiet to-day.” 

“I have been thinking.” 

‘ ‘ What about ? ” 

“ Oh, many things ! I have been wondering why 
people are different—some good, others bad—and 
how much of the goodness depends upon one’s sur¬ 
roundings, and whether every one should be con-: 
sidered equally to blame for doing the same thing, 
and-” 

“Zana, what a little goose you are ! I wouldn’t 
worry about that—that episode, another minute.” 

“Are you sure you would not ? ” 

“Sure I should try not to, at any rate. What good 
does it do ? It is very much like crying over spilt 
milk. It is wiser to go to work to repair the damage 
as nearly as possible, and take care not to spill the 
milk again,” 



302 


THE CONWAYS. 


“ You don’t know how I wish I had had more 
sense. ” 

“I can guess, I think. Don’t you remember what 
Rob said : ‘ Zana has plenty of common-sense, but 
it is not of the precocious variety. It takes a long 
time to get started.’ Rob loves you more every 
day ! ” 

“It is strange, isn’t it, that my folly should bring 
Rob and me nearer together.? He has been very 
good to me. I wonder if I should have been as good 
to him ? I mean to try to be a companion to him, 
as you are to Ned, more especially when we go home 
from here, where things are not so pleasant. ” 

“You are not going very soon, young lady! 
Papa says Uncle William has made arrangements for 
you to remain with us for a year, and we are so glad 
to have you here, that we shall not let you go any 
sooner than we must.” 

“I want to stay until I have learned how to make 
a pleasant home ; then I shall go back and let papa 
see that his daughter may also be ‘ a daily necessity,’ 
to quote Ned.” 

‘ ‘ Are you going to do the housework.? ” 

“I do not expect to, of course, but if I know how 
it should be done, I may be able to see that things 
are run a little more economically. I have been 
thinking that I have made life very hard for papa, 
sometimes, regarding money matters.” 

“ But if you are to be married by the time you are 

seventeen-” began Grace, mischievously. 

“Make it twenty-seven ! ” interrupted Zana. . 



THE CONWAYS. 


303 


Zaiui had reached the conclusion which, by the 
way, is shared by the writer, that a girl of sixteen 
should have nothing to do with lovers, or any of the 
nonsense in which society young ladies indulge. 


THE END. 




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